Snake Eyes
by Illeanah
Summary: Salazar Slytherin grew up in a harsh, brutal medieval world. Hear his story from his lips. A story of betrayal, love, hate, healing and murders. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This Salazar is the same from my other fics History – Retold and One True Heir of Slytherin – but you do not need to read. This is independent of both fics! **Yes I'm obessed with my Salazar Slytherin!

Disclaimer: The founders and the world belongs to JK Rowling, the Salazar in this fic is an interpretation of the real life man. No finicial gain is made from this story (DAMN!) only pleasure of creating and burrowing.

**Prologue **

_'Everybody has the right to feel safe. To feel loved and know the security of family ties...' _

My quill falters on the parchment, leaving a large black stain across a new delicate page. I ignore the mess and lift my quill wondering how to order my messy thoughts and write them fluently onto parchment.

Two large black ink droplets fall onto the parchment, like two over sized tears, forming spiked flowers on the page.

A small smile creases the lines on my aged face as I scrunch up the expensive parchment and throw it into the fireplace over my shoulder. I begin to write, again:

_'Here lies the true account of Salazar Slytherin...'_

I pause again, my weary eyes bore into my name as if I could fathom the complexity of what I wanted to write. The tip of my quill touches the page once more lightly and words flow from my mind.

_'My life has been far from boring. There was love and hate, murder, loss, curses and healing... but most all now as an aging man I am left with hope' _

A strange list indeed, but, I have learned that life has a way of twisting and coiling around you like a serpent and before you know it your circumstances change.

Standing as gently as my weary bones would allow me, I stretch and wiggle my swollen fingers. I had been writing all morning and yet I had nothing to show for it only a smoking pile of ruined parchment in my fireplace.

In the corner of the room, a small snowy owl huddles on a perch. If it is at all possible, he narrows his eyes at me and huffs. "No letters today, Archimedes." Archimedes ruffles his feathers in reply and closes and his blinks his eyes as if to say _Just–as-well-I–am–not–moving–from– my–perch–under–any–circumstances. _He glances at me with tired yellow eyes and hoots pathetically.

I feel a warm burning sensation in the pocket of my robes. Grinning foolishly I realize it is just the little gold coin I carry everywhere. I pull it out of my robes and hold it up to the light... 

_A familiar sense pulls me to see a small dark haired boy, eying his bullies in trepidation. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds and steps away. _

"_I don't want to play, Dudley," he whispers looking left and right for an escape as three much larger boys converge towards him. I feel a stirring of pity. I had seen similar scenes to this one before. _

_There's a resounding punch and the little dark haired boy is knocked to the ground. His seeing implements snapped in half. To his credit, the little boy does not cry. _

_"FREAK!" one of the boys snarls. _

_"Yeah freeeek!" another joins in the taunting. _

_I close my eyes as one of the boys start to kick.  
_

_  
_"That's it," I cry throwing my hands up in glee. Archimedes glares at me in irritation at my impetuous interruption of his sleep. "The perfect starting point...childhood!"

I grab up my quill and I start to scribble viciously onto yet another spare piece of parchment, while Archimedes watches me from his perch as if I am a madman. Perhaps I am.

...Perhaps I am...

_  
A/N: I know this one is short but it is only a **prologue** and does not fit with the styling of the chapters.  
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For those who don't know what the middle part with Dudley was about, this Slytherin is the same Slytherin from my other fictions and is more in depth exploration.  
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The dark haired boy of course was Harry... Harry was Slytherin's apprentice in two of my fics. Both Harry was able to share Slytherin's memories in the future in One True heir... So why couldn't Slytherin see them?  
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Happy Reading!_

_Illeanah_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Slytherin does not belong to me… this is merely an entertaining interpretation of the snaked tongued lord.**

**Childhood **

Many years have passed since my sister Salome and I left the village of our childhood under tragic circumstances. The perfect revenge on my village would be to return and show them exactly how Salazar Slytherin made his way in the world. Those I would like to confront are probably long dead...my name forgotten the memory faded from the small country village life.

Perhaps it is better this way...

Blood heritage is strong whether mage or muggle. I was born into shame and poverty, but I refuse to feel any mortification over who I was born to be. The greatest power we hold as mortals is not who we were born as but who we grow into. I am proud of my family...some say there's nothing to be proud of. But I am wise enough to now greatness when I see it, even when it is covered in the stench of poverty.

The fact we were an old wizarding family was the least of our problems. We were cursed.

Even now my quill shakes as I write, the memories I hold of my childhood home are not pleasant ones.

I feel a smile of smug satisfaction tug relentlessly at my lips; I am now called Lord Salazar Slytherin. I want for nothing; I give orders instead of being commanded. Yet my life started as a lowly peasant. 

I close my eyes and I can almost see the one room hut we lived in. A small fire sat in the middle of a dirt covered floor; there was only one door and two little windows. Two small straw fill pallets with moth eaten blankets one each for my sister and I.

As outsiders and magical misfits, we were not readily welcomed into the village. Instead our hut was situated near a stinking horrible bog. The bog is a terrible place to raise a family, sickness was more likely to afflict us there.

Why? We were different. And the stupid muggles thought we were cursed.

My poor father, Jarl Slytherin was the community's undertaker. He was the devil's messenger according to the muggles. His employment dealt with cold, unfeeling death and as village mythology would have you believe that death's inevitable stains would never wash away. We were cursed, tainted with death.

He was good man, my father, kind and wise beyond his education. He taught my older sister Salome and I all the practical day to day magic he could.

I can almost hear you say. Why would a talent wizard live in poverty and work as an undertaker? Simple answer: war.

Europe was being strangled by the war in the 'Holy Land'. Tens of thousands sort fame and glory in Jerusalem and thousands found their deaths. It was a pointless sacrificial war; a waste of human blood and a recipe for human misery. It proves what mongrels we are–the human race.

My mother, Imogene, was a healer. Many a time she was accused of witchcraft...Rightly so, she was after all a witch. But we know; you and I, witches are not evil.

It was my mother who fuelled my interest in healing; it was she who taught me all the wild plants to use in remedies.

I grew up with only my older sister Salome for company. My stubborn father would not have me work with him alongside his silent corpses and my mother would only teach me in private about the healing lore, so that I might retain some dignity to my name. Both were pointless exercises.

_Salome..._if I close my eyes I can still see her. She had always been a graceful tall willowy girl. She had dark eyes, framed in perfect long dark lashes and long raven black hair that remained loosened to the middle of her back. Despite her parentage, the boys of the village would fall over to have her notice them. However none of them were good enough for her.

All I ever wanted was to belong. I wanted to have friends and to be liked. But children are often very cruel beings. Evil little buggers... really. Cruel. Manipulative. Vicious. They never missed an opportunity to let me know I did not belong; that I was different from them–an outsider.

I used to hate it when my mother sent me into the village to pick up supplies without Salome. I used to wrap myself so tight in my green woolen cloak and my eyes half shut, in the hope none of the village children would see me.

It was all a game to them, a game where they were the winners and I was the undoubted looser.

I was always such a proud little thing and they knew to sneer at me was a sure way to anger me. They would make me so angry that I would lash out at them. They'd make such a commotion that the craftsmen would come out from their little shops to see what the noise was. I was sure to be beaten then. For of course I was the trouble maker, even though I was half the age of the other boys!

I remember the first time I came home from a beating (without the supplies my mother had sent me for). The first thing I remember was my shock at seeing my father look up from where he was standing at the fireplace; then I felt my shame at my muddy tear stained face.

Father was a wise man–it seemed he already knew what had conspired in the village. He beckoned me to him with a long bony finger and I remembered thinking as I shakily made my way over to him like an obedient puppy, how old and tired he looked.

"Ah, Salazar," he sighed as he pressed his thumb against my dirty cheek, "Do you know how precious you are?"

I looked at him with dumb fascination and nodded.

"I've buried many children your age." My father ruffled my hair and let out a ragged chesty cough and sat down on a pallet. "Life, my boy, cherish its lessons." He lifted me up onto his lap.

"But it hurts," I protested I could still feel the sting in my buttocks. 

My father laughed dryly. "Yes. Sometimes it hurts. A wise man takes the good with the bad. What is it you have learned today?"

"Not to go into the village," I answered quickly. At the time my answer sounded quite wise. I never wanted to see the blacksmith again.

My father smiled indulgently, "You must never hide from your fears, Salazar, no matter how afraid you are. Glynn and his friends would have won then and precious boy, you do not want that."

"So I should punch Glynn harder next time?" I asked and even now I cringe at how hopeful I must have sounded.

My father sighed heavily.

"No silly," Salome said coming in from the cold and closing the hut door closed behind her. "You should not react. That way the bullies loose and you come home in one piece."

"Salome…" my father growled warningly.

Salome flashed father a winning smile. "He would have never got it by _himself_."

I was baffled. "You want me to _pretend_ it isn't happening?" 

My father traced the delicate line of my nose. "My boy, I think you've got it!"

I crossed my arms against my chest angrily. "But I _don't_ want to ignore them. They called me horrible names!"

"And do you believe everything they say, Salazar?" My father said setting me down and patting my head.

Salome snorted impatiently. "Of course he does, Father."

For a long while Father gazed at both me and my sister. "Come here, too Salome, I want you to hear this too," my father beckoned my sister and he took both her and my hand in his large work calloused hands gently.

"Neither of you have anything to be ashamed of." Father's hands tightened briefly before he continued. "You were born into this world with gifts. Both of you can go beyond the life your mother and I could provide for you. No one has the right to make you feel inferior. You're both very special and besides..." Father laughed lightly, but I could see the light of fear in his eyes and I knew he was deeply afraid. "You're my children."

This was my favourite memory of my father. I was seven years old.

It only took a few severe beatings before I realized I had to be sly in dealing with my foes. They would taunt and I would walk past blithely, smiling insanely. They would grow bored and leave me alone to conduct my business in the village.

My eyes were always peeled for revenge. Glynn was my main target; he was the ring leader of the village bullies. I would wait until the opportune moment when no one would notice, the undertaker's scrawny son.

Once I tipped fine sand into one boy's bucket full of drinking water. I had hidden shoes; move objects...the hilarity of the scenes. My enemies did not know what had hit them. And they could never blame me in front of their masters. So they were punished for my pranks and I skipped home merrily, jubilant in my success.

I thought I was so very clever...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Salazar Slytherin. This is a mere interpretation of JK Rowling's fantastic founder.**

**A/N: This is the same Salazar as in my other fictions History Retold and One True Heir of Slytherin…**

**Devilry **

I lost my childhood, the innocence of youth in one terrible night. It was the night I lost faith in human kind, perhaps forever.

Human nature is the worst type of devilry in this world. We are a twisted species intent on hurting and punishing others for our own gain. I believe this of both mage and muggle...they have both betrayed me and those I love.

I was about fifteen when the rumors started. Our family lived in fear so intense I am sure I would have suffocated if I stayed in the village any longer.

There were rumors of a band of priests moving from village to village burning witches and executing wizards. Our village was small our family had survived by the lack of evidence against us and because no one wanted to take over the undertaker job of my poor devoted father. 

There was no escape. Proof for condemning the unfortunates was not needed. There need not be any provocation.

We heard stories about whole muggle families being torn from the beds and executed...We heard this in fear.

The devilry here was not magic. No it was Satan, dangling the keys of hell, using God's priests. The devilry was human nature.

Our parents lived in fear for months. Often Salome and I caught them talking in hushed voices, only for the cease the conversation as soon they realized we were listening.

I was shaken awake one night and I remember blinking wearily and looking frantically about. "There here," Salome whispered in my ear, "Get up and get dressed."

I threw back my moth eaten blankets and pulled a green cloak over my shoulders–it was the only clothing I owned part from my hose and shirt.

My mother was stuffing food into a small sack cloth bag, shaking her head and sobbing.

"Mother," I crept up behind her. She jumped and hugged me viciously before throwing the bag hurriedly into my hands. "Take this, take your sister and go..."

"But..." 

She kissed both my cheeks and pushed me out the door. Salome was on my heels.

"But..." I gesture uselessly around the home and my eyes feel to my father who was lying pale on his pallet.

"You're father is too ill. I shall not leave him," my mother said softly and gave me another push towards the door, "Go."

"Mother..." 

"Son," my father gasped from his sick bed. "Go, and live a long life."

Everything seemed to cave in about me. I understood fully my parents fear. This was the end of our village life. And for my parents, there was no escape. I was going to loose the pinnacle of my life, my pillars of strength of comfort.

"Nooo..." I think my voice wobbled with emotion. But I was not embarrassed.

"Oh Salazar," my father coughed violently his dark eyes smiling sadly at me, "you must..."

I blinked away the tears from my eyes furiously, swallowed then nodded resolutely turning from my parents and taking my sisters hand run into the darkness.

We had not gotten far when we saw the first glimmer of muggle activity. Even at the distance we were we could both see the bobbing of the burning torches at the muggles marched with their holy men leading their way.

I shuddered but I dear not moved. I sat and waited, crouched and cramped in my hiding place. Beside me I could hear Salome crying softly so, I wrapped my arms around my sister and we waited.

The muggles reached out front door after a few minutes. I watched as they rapped smartly on the rotting door frame. When there was no answer they became more insistent until the door fell of its frame and onto the floor with a _THUMP! _

In my arms Salome stirred and hiccupped.

The muggles stood by the entrance to our home seemingly perplexed by the lack of resistance.

Screams and cries echoed through our hiding place as the priests and the men of the village pulled my poor mother out by her hair. I could not help myself: I stood and looked back home and I saw the silhouette of my mother dumped at the feet of a holy man.

Screams of terror rent the air as the villages beat my mother. It tore my inner soul apart to hear her suffering so while I remained in hiding powerless to save her.

My father was dragged from our home next. They had no respect for his illness as he too was treated to the same barbaric treatment.

Then to add further insult to injury, the torches were piled around the perimeter of our house. My childhood home would burn for hours nothing would be left but piles of ashes; a ruin by the fen.

We watched as our parents were taken away, frog marched between the butcher, the blacksmith and the baker.

I instantly realized with a jolt of trepidation that the rumors were true. There would be no trail, no chance of proving innocent and harmless. Our parents, the very core of my world, were going straight to their execution.

Salome, dear Salome was so distressed with these terrible turn of events that when I whispered for her to stay where she was hidden. She didn't even beg me to stay.

I do not know to this day what possessed me to follow the villagers. I only had this overwhelming feeling in the pit of my stomach that I must.

They took my parents into a little hut and left the door guarded. I held my breath; I knew my parents had enough magic to escape from their dungeon.

Alas nothing happened. At the time I could not understand why. But now I understand. My mother would not leave my father. She was loyal to him and him to her.

I waited for what seemed like such a long time. I watched the villages hastily build a roughly hewn wooden platform. To this day I can still hear the bellowing orders of the blacksmith.

The muggles' construction was finished by dawn. They wasted no time. My parents were fetched from their prisoner and shuffled up the stairs of the platform. With a growing dread I realized they were going to be executed–by the axe.

Rumor had spread amongst the muggles about the flame – freezing charm. They were taking no chances that my parents could survive.

Everything around me seemed surreal. I could not help myself I rose upon my feet and walked forward into to the open.

"Jarl Slytherin and his wife Imogene Slytherin of the fen have been accused of the most unholy practice of witchcraft. They have been condemned to die upon this dawn..."

I choked and wrapped my cloak around my shoulders as I heard the priest's words. No one was taking any notice of me. They only had a sordid fascination with my parents' execution.

"May they burn in the fiery pits of hell for all eternity." The priest voice warbled with unholy judgement.

Tears started to streak down my dirty face as I watched the executer step forward. He was holding an axe with a long curved blade; that I knew at any moment was going to lop my parents' heads off.

_"MURDERERS!"_ I screamed, my voice echoed pitifully as it warbled with emotion. I knew even then what I was doing was stupid.

The villagers turned to look at me and I stared back at them. I think was the first time I realized it was us against them – the non-magicals.

"Murders," I whispered repeating my last accusation.

The priest stepped forward and waved a long staff with the crucifix at me. "Get the boy away from here."

"He's their son," my old enemy Glynn told the priest jabbing his finger at my parents who stood rebelliously side by side.

The priest turned his head towards me. I do not know what he saw within me. But his eyes widened in what I assume to be fear. "DEVIL!"

"Salazar," my father yelled wrestling with his bonds, "Run."

I choked and shook my head, tears still streaming down my cheeks.

My father's eyes hardened and he growled for the first time at me. "Do as I say."

I was dreadfully fearful; I could not comprehend my father's anger. But it made be afraid.

As the villagers reached out to grab me, I dodged them. And I ran towards a hiding place.

Fortunately for me the villagers were too keen to see my parents die to worry too much for me. They turned back and the axe was raised...

"Salazar..." My father's voice wafted on the wind towards me before the axe came crashing down on his exposed neck.

Blood spattered, his head fell loose off his shoulders. His guidance had been torn from my life.

Sobbing hysterically I turned and ran. I knew that my mother would be killed after my father. My grief was too powerful for me to watch her die. So I did the only thing I could: I ran.

I ran into the fen and kept running until I found a large trunk of a tree, where I lay slumped, wailing like a new born.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Salazar Slytherin or any other of the Hogwarts founders.**

**Journey**

I have no concept of how long I wept on that solitary tree. The world felt like it had crashed down upon my scrawny shoulders. I knew I could not stay in the village. I had to leave, even though I did not know what lay beyond my home.

I brushed myself of, wiped away my tears and started towards where I had left Salome. She would be angry at me for leaving her alone for so long, so I traveled as quickly as my frozen bare feet would allow. 

It did not take me long to find my sister. She was huddled in a foetal position rocking back and forth, where I left her.

"Salazar," she snapped looking up at me accusingly. "Where have you been?"

Something on my face must have told her for she shook her head and mumbled, "Nevermind."

"We have to leave." I expected my sister to disagree with me and secretly I hoped for a reason to stay. Not because I cherished my childhood home; but because I was afraid of what may lay outside the boarders of my known world. I was disappointed. Salome meekly nodded her head, stood and brushed off her long brown skirts.

"Where are we going to go?" she asked simply and stared at me with large dark eyes full of trust. Even though she was the elder I had come to be the leader of the two–for I was the male sibling.

I shrugged my shoulders and glanced around. As I was uneducated, I had no concept of geography and nearby towns that may be sympathetic.

"They'll come back for us if we stay," I said unnecessarily, we were both painfully aware that our lives were still in danger from the villagers and their holy men.

Salome shuddered, sniffed loudly then pointed. "Well that direction is as good as any."

I followed the line of her wavering finger. It pointed through the boggy fen and I remembered father talking about larger villagers beyond. But to do so would mean walking through the cemetery.

I gritted my teeth as if the houses of the dead held no fear for me and nodded. "Why not?"

Salome smiled wanly and turned her regal head. "Onto our new life then." 

We travelled as fast as we could on foot. Salome of course, being a girl was wearing long skirts and so was hindered from moving too quickly. I'm glad I didn't have to where skirts. I on the other hand was bare footed and it was bitterly cold. My poor feet suffered, but I could not go home and get shoes. One I was too afraid to go back and two well the muggles burned everything, I doubt my shoes survived the torching of our home.

The cemetery came into view after a few minutes. I shivered in horror at the place. Living my whole life with muggles made me somewhat superstitious of the lonely 'houses of the dead.' It's silly really – the dead can't harm anyone, they're just that: dead. At time however, the treat seemed realistic.

Salome and I exchanged worried glances before she sighed and pushed open the steel gate. It opened slowly with a screech.

Before I could open my mouth to protest, Salome disappeared through the gate and the first headstones. It was a terrible dilemma. But I knew the choice was already made fore me. I had to follow.

"Salome…" My voice wavered in fear as I crept through the first rows. _"Salome…"_ My breath came out in small little clouds in front of my eyes. It was only a mist, I know, but I was scared witless. "Salome…"

My foot stepped forward and I heard a crunch. I jumped back with a yelp refused to look down.

"Hurry up, Salazar!" I heard Salome's voice cut through the dense air.

Shuddering I wrapped my long cloak about my shoulders and stepped forward hurriedly, I was almost running…

"There you are…" Salome said at the other end when she saw me. I skidded to a stop panting, glaring at her from under my dark fringe. She opened the gate she was leaning against smugly and invited me through. I threw my head back proudly and marched past, annoyed that she had frightened me so badly.

There was nothing more mundane than travelling by foot only to rest by the roadside when it became too dark to continue.

It was on the second day when our journey came to an abrupt end. Salome tended a little fire away from the road and I had gone looking for something, anything to fill our rumbling bellies. We had not eaten for what seemed like an age.

I was not a particularly clever hunter; but I always had been cunning and resourceful. Dinner was not caught by me but by some other gentleman, to whom I was grateful for.

What I had found was a trap with a fat juicy looking rabbit. Who could resist such a tempting offer?

The poor rabbit's eyes were wild and bulging as I drew near. But the animal's fear did not perturb me in the slightest regard. I was too hungry to feel any sort of sympathy.

I lifted the lid of the trap that had caught the rabbit and grabbed it up by its long velvety ears. I clutched my hands around its scrawny little neck and twisted violently so it lay limp in my arms and smiled.

Salome was pleased by our prize, as she tended the fire I skinned and prepared our feast, boasting all the while how clever I was to pinch it out of the trap. Even though Salome made a show of seeming disapproving I could see the smile twitching on her red lips. "Salazar that was someone else's meal!" she cried.

I laughed and replied, "I've done the hard work of preparing it…It's ours now!"

The tantalizing smell of cooking rabbit soon filled the night air. I watched the rabbit cook, licking my sore chapped lips in anticipation. It seemed the rabbit had its revenge by taking as long as possible to cook.

But we were rewarded with warm roasting meat for our efforts and our patience. Food never tasted so good.

Salome almost finished her helping of rabbit when we heard horse hoof falls nearby. Salome heard them first. I saw her cringe and bolt upright dropping the rest of the meal to the floor with fright.

I glanced up quizzically and then I too heard the noise.

_Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop._

I froze where I stood. The noise stopped and I relaxed and started to sit.

SNAP!

I bolted forward and spun on my heel, Salome covered her mouth to cover a half formed scream.

She was thinking what I was: the villagers had caught up!

Laughter filled the air as I spun madly around again. My eyes would have been wide as saucers.

Another snap came from my left. "Poachers," a cold voice drawled.

I turned very slowly I knew from the sound of the voice the new comer was educated. He was older than me; gold brown facial hair dotted around his face, his eyes were hard and accusing. Instead of the peasant garb I was used to seeing he wore a hauberk of mail, and a red and gold jerkin on top.

The stranger curled his lip up at me and circled around my sister, sneering.

"We're _not_ poachers," my sister gabbled.

The stranger laughed shortly; it was much like a hunting dog's bark. "There is rabbit by your feet, darling," he pointed out.

My sister embarrassed and flustered looked guiltily down at the remnants of her dinner.

"N…nnn…ooo," my sister insisted shaking her head looking at me for some help. "I – we…"

Salome gestured loosely to me and the stranger's eyes locked on mine for a moment. I held his stare but shuddered; this man meant us ill.

The stranger sniffed and looked down upon my sister, my breath caught in my throat as he reached out for her…

Something clicked within my mind. I strode before him as if to remind him I would bare witness to anything he attempted to do. "Leave her alone…" I grabbed his muscled arm and tried to pull him back.

I felt the strong sting of his gloved hand against the tender flesh of my cheek. Tears sprung instantaneously to my eyes as I fell backwards.

"Hearne!" I heard thundering hoof beats behind me as the stranger bent down upon me to attack me again. "Hold."


	5. Chapter 5

**Diclaimer: the world of Harry Potter still belongs of JK Rowling.**

**Gryffindor**

Hearne sneered down on me and retreated a few steps, holding his arms loosely by his side.

"Father, they are poachers." Hearne lashed out with his leather boot.

I ignored his physical attack and started to search frantically under my cloak for my wand. Father had always told me only to use a wand in an emergency as a last resort. My eyes flickered sideways to Salome who was doing the same thing. We both knew to be accused of poaching on a lord's land meant death.

I found the smooth surface of my wand as the temporary rescuer came into view. He was riding a white horse, and wore the livery of red and gold. If I knew any better, I would have instantly recognised the colours as that belonging to Gryffindor, famous and powerful wizarding clan. But because of my poor upbringing, I was ignorant of our illustrious captor's identity.

"Stuperfy!" I aimed straight at Hearne's forehead. There was time for him to pull a startled expression before he keeled over stunned. I whipped around and pointed my wand at the older knight.

Laughter followed and my eyes slid to another figure also wearing red and gold. He was my age with dark brown hair and sparkling honey gold eyes. He clapped his hands energetically. "Well done!" he cried almost bouncing out of the saddle.

The older knight eyed the end of my wand and turned his head sternly towards the boy. "Godric, you should be attending to your studies." 

Godric, the boy looked up at the knight and grinned sheepishly and blinked his humourous eyes innocently.

"So sorry, milord!" another horseman came crashing through the forest.   
"Darcy," the knight replied dryly.

The newcomer nodded towards the knight and turned to Godric. "You should be attending to your studies."  
"I know, father has just kindly reminded me," Godric replied dolefully and winked at me.

I on the other hand had been edging around the clearing to get closer to Salome to take her hand and run while we still had a chance.

"Don't you two go anywhere," the old knight growled.

I froze; I swear I could hear my poor heart pounding against my ribs. 'Run' I mouthed to Salome. Her eyes widened and she shook her head so that her long raven locks brushed her flushed cheeks.

Instead of unsheathing his deadly looking double blade from his scabbard, the knight pulled out a long wand. For a moment my breath stuck in my throat… and my heart literally stopped.

"Enervate." The old wizard pointed his wand to the fallen figure of Hearne. And before my eyes, Hearne was revived.

My jaw dropped as the knight turned his regal head towards Salome and I, I would have done anything to be removed from his line of sight. "What brings an unknown wizard and a witch to my lands?"

My mouth went dry, and in the corner of my eye I could see Hearne standing and brushing himself off looking at me in upmost distaste. He had turned his head to the younger boy Godric, whom I guessed correctly to be his brother. What I saw between them made me shudder. But Godric stared back defiantly with amusement deep in his honey gold eyes.

"Are you not going to answer me?" the knight asked crisply and I was plucked from my reverie and into reality.

I swallowed and took the deepest breath I was capable of mustering under the conditions I was under.

"Please, milord," Salome replied timidly, she stepped forward and laced her hand in my own. "We could not stay the village of Rookwell… we fled for our lives."

"Witch hunts," I unknowingly added.

There was an uneasy silence in the clearing as the newcomers exchanged worried glances. Godric pulled his steed's head back and looked over his shoulder with a shudder.

"And where do you intend to go, young man?"

I looked to Salome hoping to be saved from this uncomfortable situation. I was to be disappointed.

"Where ever the priests aren't," I replied coolly.

The older knight laughed lightly and scratched his beard. "Where might that be?"

I stared at him unblinkingly. Was there no safety in this world?

"No," the knight said as if to answer my question and he shook his head sadly, "There is no safety - not for our kind."

"What do you want?" I demanded abruptly and I'm afraid rather harshly. 

The lord threw his head back and laughed. This was not the reaction that I was expecting.

"What is it that you truly want, child?" the lord returned.

I bristled at the mere thought of being called a child. It was not in my nature to be allowed to be made a fool of.

"Who - who are you?" I demanded my hand closed around Salome's protectively.

The lord's craggy face broke into a genial smile. He placed his mail clad fist over his heart and beat it against his chest. "I am Sir Elric Gryffindor. My firstborn." He gestured loftily to the first new comer Salome and I meet. Salome frowned visible at him until I nudged her. Her face became expressionless. "Hearne Gryffindor and this of course my not so studious youngest." Here the younger boy my age visibly gave his father a disgruntled look. "Godric Gryffindor."

"It was jolly good to see Hearne beaten at his own game," Godric cried struggling to keep the giggles inside his chest. I smirked despite myself. Hearne however scowled. "Amateur," he snorted and he turned on his heel to find his horse. It was in those moments I believe that his deep seeded hatred of me took root in his heart.

Elric Gryffindor watched his elder son gallop away and glared at his younger. "Godric that was not gentlemanly of you."

"Sorry, father," Godric replied innocently with the barest touch of cheekiness. "But he probably deserved it!"

Elric Gryffindor snorted and shrugged his shoulders. "Do you delight in reminding your poor old father how much your brother injuries me." 

At this strange statement, young Godric blushed in repentance. "I didn't mean to hurt you father."

Elric sighed heavily and glanced again in the direction where Hearne had disappeared. He smiled sadly and once again looked to Salome and I, his eyes settling onto me in particular.

"You'll be needing a place to stay," Elric commented as matter of fact. Beside him Godric nodded vigorously. "It is not safe for you to wander the roads alone."

"Then perhaps, you lordship has a suggestion," I replied coldly.

Elric tilted his head and glared at me with an intense dark eyed stare. He rubbed his chin with his gloved hand and then winked conspiratorially at me.  
"How much magic do you know boy?"

"Magic," I repeated dumbly.

"Magic, aye, the gift?" the lord prompted with a trace of a grin on his face. "How much do you know?"

"A bit… I suppose," I returned shifting uneasily I couldn't see where this conversation was going.

"Ah… a bit, Darcy?" Elric Gryffindor looked to his aide who was silent throughout most of the exchange. Darcy roused himself and looked to me then laid eyes on my sister.

"A daresay more than a bit to have knocked Hearne off his feet," Darcy sighed. Apparently he too was happy that Hearne had been taught a lesson.

"He's good at the healing arts," Salome snapped at my side.

"Salome," I hissed, "why did you have to go and tell them that?"

My sister returned my glared coolly.

"A healer, eh?" Elric nodded his head dolefully and looked to Godric. "We could do with an extra healer, couldn't we son?"  
Godric was grinning from ear to ear. "Certainly, we always need someone to patch you up after you go hunting!"  
Elric pretended to cuff Godric over his ear; Godric never lost his self confident smirk.

My heart during this interlude started beating faster and faster. I suddenly became aware of the possibilities that might come my way. I looked to Salome and part of my excitement plummeted. I would not abandon my sister to fend for herself. She was after all family and the only family I had left at that. Family, those of your blood are important. It is the strongest bond on earth, after love that is.

"Come and live with us for exchange of your healing services." My mouth dropped open even with this conformation of my suspicions. It was a dream come true. I was passionate about healing - I still am.

I shook my head. "I cannot."

"Salazar," Salome hissed loudly into my ear this time so that everybody could hear her, "what are you doing? You won't get another opportunity like this one!"

I knew what she said was true. I smiled and turned taking her hands in my own. "I won't abandon you. I cannot and I will not. Never."

"Well," Elric leaned over his horse's neck, "what is the young lady talented at?"

Salome twisted her fingers around her long raven hair. I sighed Salome was a good at charms; she was always sitting around inventing new uses and incantations in her spare time. So I pointed this out to Sir Elric. He looked genuinely impressed.

"Very well. My shelter my protection for your respective services… Darcy will escort you to my castle." The lord wheeled his white horse around and then called over his shoulder. "Godric James Gryffindor, it is time you got back to your studies."

Godric sighed loudly and wave over his shoulder as his small horse trotted to catch up to his father.

I knew in those moments we were going to be fast friends. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Salazar Slytherin… he can't be owned by anyone… he's a sly one... that sly ol' fox!**

**Employment**

My first night at the castle under the lord Sir Elric Gryffindor was spent tossing and turning. I did not get a wink of sleep. In the corner however, I could hear Salome snoring lightly and see her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

I was surprised that Lord Gryffindor had a room (a fully furnished room) ready for us. It by no means was luxury, but it was better than I had ever known. It was even better than the headman's house from out quaint little village.

It was the first time I had ever slept on a real bed with real goose feather pillows and warm blankets of sheep's wool. I don't think I could ever sleep on a pallet ever again, although that might have something to do with my age.

I rose early, washed my face and raked my fingers through my coarse black hair. To my boyish fancy, there was a mirror above the basin.

Mirrors are ancient tools of magic. I was educated enough to know one when I saw one and I knew that they were rare even in the houses of the wealthy.

I yanked my fingers through my hair again grumbling, "I look terrible!"

"Too true, dear," a voice agreed with me, "too true."

I reeled backwards turning this way at that way in a desperate attempt to find the speaker.

I adopted the fighting position and turned quickly around on my heel. "Where are you?" There was no answer. "Show yourself!"

"Tut, tut, tut," said the voice, "no reason to me rude my friend."

"ARGH!" I reeled around and clumsily feel onto my bottom. Kicking wildly I wriggled my way from the bathroom. Once outside the small cramped little room, I slammed the door.

"Salazar, what is that devilish noise?"

I was panting like a mad dog glancing this way and that to make sure the bodiless voice had not followed me. "The mirror," I gasped, "it spoke to me!"

"I expect an apology, young man!" a muffle voice wafted through the closed door.

I clamped my hands over my mouth startled. Salome on the other hand merely looked bored.

"The mirror can speak," she started calmly looking at her dirty nails and looking very superior, in a manner only older sisters can muster, "because it is _enchanted_."

"I think it is rather a silly idea," I replied shaking my head in an attempt to regain any remnants of my dignity. "Who wants a reflection that speaks to you?"

"I heard that!" the mirror called.

I slapped the door in reply. My pride had been injured enough on my first morning at Hogwarts Castle.

"I'm going for breakfast," I called over my shoulder before swaggering, as proudly as I could, out of our shared chambers.

"Boys," Salome muttered under her breath, as she closed the door behind me.

Kitchens are the easiest place to find in the castle along with the mess hall of the lord's soldiers. They are busy places, full of heat, conversation and bodies bustling about under the scrutiny of the head cook (no matter the time of day). Kitchens can be found when you are half asleep. All you need do is to follow your nose.

That is what I did. I followed my nose and soon learned that the lesser people of the castle ate nearby in a rowdy hall, much like a guard's mess. Delighted by the smell of scrumptious fresh bread and meaty stew, I lined up eager to line my rumbling belly.

"Here you be the new 'un," a cook assistant said, shoving a wooden bowl into my hand.

Before I could even attempt to reply, a young girl a few years older than me piped up. "Healer they say."

I nodded and smiled. "I've done healing in my home village. I'm Salazar Slytherin…" I shifted my bowl around and extended my hand in an offer of friendship. "And you are?"

The girl screwed up her dainty little nose and looked me up and down with utmost distaste. "I know who you are," she returned dryly and ignored my extended hand in distaste. She turned haughtily to the assistant dishing out food holding her plate out. He dished out the food and as she was about to leave she added, "I think it was a terribly poor judgement of Sir Elric to offer such an employment to riff raff he found in his forest. Especially to a man!"

I watched the back of her skirts swaying as she left without a second glance. Mortified I forced my jaw to close and composed my face as my father had schooled me to and held out my bowl for the cook to fill with food.

"Odelle Throckmorton," the cook muttered through his teeth so that his lips barely moved, "You'll be working with her sister, the fair lass Briona Throckmorton…"

The cook rambled on my I turned my gaze towards Odelle who was talking to a girl my age with long blonde hair and fair eyes. The two girls glanced up. Odelle frowned and nodded with pursed lips in my direction. Obviously they were discussing me. The younger girl's glance lingered and for the barest of seconds the corner of her lips lifted in a greeting smile. But it faded as her companion smacked her arm and I saw Odelle's lips move in an irritated command, "Don't encourage him, Bree.."

I sighed heavily and for the first time, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

"Move, boy!" I stumbled forward as a man behind me started jabbing me in the back with his bowl.

I wandered down the aisle as I passed people took more space and glared at me. I was not wanted here.

I glumly found a section of table that was not occupied and stared into my bowl and pushed the food around and around with a spoon.

One would think I would have been grateful for such a wonderful meal compared to the dregs our family shared. But I was dreadfully homesick. I ate without tasting I felt, as if I died as my parents were taken away from me.

It seemed like an age before Salome turned up. She timidly opened the doors and almost skipped through. Unlike me, she did not receive such an icy welcome. Grinning at everybody she past she lined up for food and cheerily speaking with the cook she caught my eye and waved. I smiled thinly and nodded an acknowledgement and turned back to my stew and bread.

In the corner of my eye I caught Odelle Throckmorton's scowl. She stood strode across the room and confronted my sister. The little blonde girl beside her also stood. "Odelle…" she murmured following the elder almost pleadingly.

"Oh - uh," I muttered placing my bread down and followed Odelle Throckmorton's steps.

For a few long moments Odelle stood, sneering at Salome. Salome stepped back and looked over Odelle's shoulder to see my worried face frowning.

"I'm… I'm Salome," my sister like myself introduced herself - but with a warm beaming smile.

"I know who you are," Odelle snapped.

"Odelle, please…" the blonde haired girl pleaded, "let them be."

"Shut up Briona!" Odelle snarled and looked back to my stunned sister. "You're his sister…"

Good gentle Salome nodded her head, "My brother Salazar."

Odelle shook her head then suddenly deliberately knocked the bowl out of my sister's hands. The hot stew burned her hands and was ruined on the floor.

Shocked poor Salome looked to her burning hands, to the floor then to Odelle who was smirking.

If this was not bad enough, Odelle grabbed handfuls of Salome's long raven hair and pulled my sister towards her mouth. I heard nothing what was said, but they must have been nasty as tear sprang into Salome's eyes.

With one last gleeful look, the terrible Odelle calmly strode to the door and left.

"Oh," the little blonde haired girl cried, "I'm sorry; so sorry." The blonde girl bent down gathering the bits and pieces of the bowl Salome had dropped.

"Never mind the mess; the cooks will sort that out…" The girl took Salome's hands and steered her towards the door.

"Salazar right?" the girl looked over her shoulder at me, "come, I'll introduce you to Cassia the head healer. She's expecting us."

I followed like a lost lamb in the wake of the two girls. Salome was shaking. But I knew it wasn't from fear; it took a lot to scare my sister - it was rage.

The blonde girl murmured apologies the whole way down the corridor and down into the basement. I knew from what my mother had taught me that many healers in the magical world prefer basements away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

The blonde pushed open a door and ushered my sister inside.

"My dear Briona what have you there?" a small old lady asked with a voice that crackled like fire.

"This is Salome."

"Hello my dear," the old lady muttered as she took my sister's hands in her own wrinkly ones. Salome looked over her shoulder at me clearly communicating, 'help me'. I shrugged my shoulders in reply.

"Come my dear, my wrinkles are not contagious," the little old lady's eyes shone in amusement but sensing my presence she looked up at me. "Boy," she said dryly and nodded her head.

Everything within my body seemed to freeze and I found that I could not for the life of me construct a meaningful reply.

"Salazar Slytherin…Imogene's son." she hissed. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I could not remember telling Sir Elric my mother's name. A seer, I decided almost at once; definitely a seer.

My thoughts were disturbed my the old lady's cackle. **'Not quite boy.' **

For the second time that morning I heard a bodiless voice. However after a frantic search around the healer's quarters I saw there was no mirror. I looked to Salome and Briona both whom looked politely surprised by my strange behaviour. The old lady… (**'My name is Cassia.' **) looked like a cat who had got all the cream. Very pleased with herself indeed…

Everything clicked into place at once. "Did you… madam…?"

"You may call me Miss Cassia." Dark eyes glittered in the dark and she laughed again. "Only if I may call you Salazar," she amended.

Despite myself I grinned shyly and nodded my head.

"I had forgotten what fun I can have with a new underling." Miss Cassia looked at Briona ruefully and they both smiled.

The smiles however soon disappeared when she looked towards my sister. "Now Salazar," she indicated to a small cupboard with a long bony finger, "bring me what potions and ointments you think are needed." 

I stepped forward and inspected the cupboard with a growing dread. _'If only I could read,'_ I thought frantically looking at the hundreds of colour bottles.

I heard Miss Cassia sigh heavily, "Very well tell Briona what you want from the cupboard and she'll pick them out for you, if you can't read. Really I thought Imogene had much more sense!"

I reddened and mumbled instructions to Briona which bottles and solutions I wanted and brought them over to Miss Cassia who look at my collection with a straight face.

"Unorthodox," she mumbled, "just like you mother."

I raised my eyebrows and looked to Salome, who still was looking worried in the healer's grip.

"Excuse me madam," Salome whispered nervously.

"Hmmm…" Miss Cassia never looked up.

"You've mentioned our mother thrice," Salome pointed out, "Did you know her?"

Miss Cassia poured out some potion from a bottle and dabbed it onto Salome's burns. Salome winced with pain and I saw tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. "The evidence points to that, my dear," Miss Cassia sighed cryptically, "now you better go I believe there is a young sir waiting for you in the library…"

_'Definitely a seer,'_ I thought to myself.

**'I can tell working with you, Salazar, is going to be fun.' **

I yelped and jumped back, nearly falling over a low pallet. To my embarrassment, I heard Cassia's laugh, joined by Briona's.

Some may be wondering about Salazar's reaction to the mirror. Mirror's were expensive and rare in ancient times and had the power to inspire awe and surprise. Some legends say mirrors are the devil's tool for capturing souls and medieval wizards them for scrying - (a branch of divination.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do have red hair, do have a J and K in my name (although in the wrong order), I do write. But unfortunately I am no JK Rowling! **

**Poison Ivy**

Miss Cassia, as I came to call her, had me in her underground chambers most days from early morning to mid afternoon. When we were not patching Sir Elric Gryffindor or his knights up from one of their hunts, or tending to the sick, she would teach me to read and write. It was slow learning, but Briona, much to her elder sister's displeasure, helped me during any other free time.

My days were busy, healers unlike those of different occupations, do not have 'normal' working hours. We were always ready to receive the sick or injured. Many times I was woken in the dead of the night to scramble to assist Miss Cassia in an emergency. But I loved my work. 

I learned pretty soon that the voice I was hearing in my head was that of Miss Cassia and was something she referred to as essence. Soon she started teaching me to communicate and step into other people's minds (to state simply). This of course was brilliant in case of emergencies, but its downfall was that the old woman always seemed to know what I was thinking.

Salome spent much of her time inside our shared chamber working on her charms. Most of which she practiced on me! If she wasn't in our chamber, she was utilising her time in Sir Elric's library and was often accompanied by Darcy, (whose first name was William but people only ever used his last name). Darcy was Sir Elric's 'personal assistant' and had taken quite an interest in Salome's studies. If you were to ask my personal opinion, I believe he was more interested in my sister than the study; he never admitted it.

On dreary night after gruelling over some very sick cattle, yes our duties also included looking after his lordship's stock, I took a walk before starting work once more. It was early morning just prior to dawn and I felt there was no reason to sleep only to rise again in a few short hours. I was resolved to take an energy giving potion once I entered Miss Cassia's workshop. I knew she would disapprove, but would grudgingly agree that it was better for me to take it than to fall asleep on the job.

It was becoming cold outside, but the greying sky turning from darkness to the dawn was beautiful outside the castle walls. So, I wrapped my bottle green cloak about my shoulders and strolled.

I know that some would say it was foolish to be alone outside at that hour. But I was young and restless and wanted nothing but fresh air. I did not expect company.  
It was cracking twigs that alerted me. Paranoid as I am, I spun around on my heel and came nose to nose with Hearne Gryffindor.

I fell backwards onto my bottom with a yelp. Hearne only scowled down upon him his thin lips twisting into a malicious sneer.

"Milord," I gasped in surprise, "what are you doing…" My voice trailed off as I remembered one should not question someone of a higher rank. 

Hearne glared me up and down then drew his sword so that the steel rang against the firm hold of the scabbard. The sound will forevermore make me cringe.

"Well, well, well," Hearne drawled lazily running a finger up and down the shining blade, "isn't it the little village healer."

My throat was dry. I had known many bullies in my life, but never a nobleman standing over me.

Hearne lifted his head back and let out a short bark of laughter that only served to chill my blood.

Still sneering he lifted his sword above his head. I squeezed my eyes shut expecting the blade to slice through my skinny body. Instead I heard a distinct whistle of air barely missing my ear and the thud of dirt. Very slowly I opened one eye. The sword was wobbling from side to side; its tip stuck firm in the soft dirt.

"Accio wand."

Before I could even register the danger my wand sailed through the air and into Hearne's outstretch hand. Hearne was smirking victoriously as he fiddled with my wand. There was nothing that I could do but stare up at him hoping against hope he wasn't going to kill me. I was defenceless against him.

"What are you going to do with me?" I demanded in a husky voice, trying to kick myself clear of Hearne's vengeful glare.

"Don't worry, swamp rat, I'm just here to teach you a lesson," Hearne replied lightly, as if he was merely commenting on the weather. I watched my wand as he twisted it around and around in his hands.

"Can I have my wand back?" I demanded clearly standing and stepping towards the older boy. Hearne growled. "Please?" I amended all too quickly.

Instead of handing my wand or using it against me Hearne backhanded me twice and pushed me roughly against the trunk of an ancient tree so that I slid down slowly back down onto my backside.

Hearne leered as he brought my wand up to rest against his cheek. Very casually he wrapped his long fingers around the slender wood and…

SNAP! 

My wand was successfully divided into two; only held by a strand of dragon heart string.

My face flushed in anger and confusion to why this young immensely wealthy wizard of the nobility would pick on me. Wands were expensive. They will always be. And the wand the man had just ruined belong to my long dead grandfather Praxiteles Slytherin. Wands amongst the poorer classes were often handed down my generation from generation to save money.

It would have been better for Hearne to hurl the remains of my wand at me; inside he pocketed them and brought his own wand out.

I heard him hiss out a spell I never heard in my life. Yelping I made to drive for cover, but a great white light prevented me from doing so. Transfixed I didn't realised the danger until the light faded and all became black - pitch black.

I heard Hearne's confident footfalls and jeering laugh as he approached me and pulled me to stand on my feet. I was blind. It came as a shock and then I realised what a coward Hearne Gryffindor was. I was blind and powerless against him.

He started to drag me through the forest and gave no sign of hearing my sharp yelps of pain as he dragged me over the forest floor. Rather, I think he enjoyed out little outing and causing me so much pain and bother. 

It seemed like hours before he stopped, pulled me to my feet and turned me around and around and around…

I dizzily raised my hand to my head and took a tentative step forward. "Hearne…" I cried softly, "Hearne…" My heart started to beat frantically. Where was my tormentor?

"GRYFFINDOR!" I screeched at the top of my longs. My personal motto was if being polite doesn't help; yell your lungs out.

"Hello…" I continued after a pause and my voice I am ashamed to admit was rather timid. "Anyone…"

I was alone in the middle of the forest… or so I guessed. I was blind. I had no idea which was to go and I was ruddy scared.

It was then I remembered the mind ability to contact Miss Cassia and Briona. Shamed faced I took a step forward. How come it took me so long to remember? I was suppose to be cunning and smarter than my foes. Now I was stranded in the middle of the forest with cuts, bruises, and a wounded pride and all I had left was to contact the aged head healer. 

I relaxed and pulled myself together. **'Miss Cassia?' **I asked softly.

I felt the healer's essence enter my mind almost immediately. **'Salazar where have you been?' **

I think I whimpered in reply and brushed away some poison ivy from my hose legs.

**'Salazar I'm warning you boy…' **

Miss Cassia was annoyed. It never took much to irritate the head healer. She was the no nonsense type. Briona always told me that is where I got my reputation as a grumpy old man.

**'Help, Miss Cassia,'** I pleaded, **'I got ambushed and I'm wandless and… and I don't know where I am and…' **

**'Use your eyes boy!"** Miss Cassia admonished.

**'I can't I'm blind!'** I returned timidly and desperately. Being blind is surprisingly frightening. You never realise how much you depend on your sense of sight in everyday life; never until you lose the ability to see that is.

**'Okay, okay don't panic!' **

**'…and I'm covered in what I think is poison Ivy!" **I continued almost screaming at the top of my lungs ignoring her last message.

**'I said don't panic!' **Miss Cassia snapped. I could almost see (ironically) her bustling through her cabinet of medicines and stuffing them into a canvas bag. **'Stay there…'**

I would have liked to have known where Miss Cassia thought I was going to go. But I shrugged my shoulders and sat as calmly as my situation would allow on something I assumed was a log or a boulder.

The sounds of the forest played a melody around me with harmonic counter melodies. My sight of hearing seemed to sharpen around me. I even fancied I could hear Hearne's breathing nearby. But on closer inspection - Hearne was nowhere in sight (or rather in hearing distance).

I twiddle my thumbs and sat and waited… and waited for something to happen.

Clip. Clop. Clip….

Horses. I recognised the sound instantly.

I rose suddenly and darted behind a tree. Clumsily with lots of cursing, tripping and snarling - no wonder they heard me before I could reach a hiding place.

"Who's out there?" a voice cut through the forest - much like a blade slicing through any obstacle in its way.

I recognised the voice as to belonging to Sir Elric. _'At last,' _I thought, _'someone has found me!'_

"Milord!" I cried, "I am here!"

I heard the stunned cries and the horses moving closer. Even blind I was looking (or trying to) frantically around.

"Salazar." I heard the fall of feet as Sir Elric dismounted from his stallion. "What are you doing…?"

His words were cut off. "What's happened?" he continued his voice lowering dangerously. I fancied he was looking me up and down.

"I - I…" I very well couldn't tell him Hearne had done this. His own son. He wouldn't believe me! "I got lost."

"And you blinded yourself in order to achieve this?" a young voice commented wryly.

"Godric hush," Sir Elric replied.

Blood rushed to my face and the humiliation of the whole scene and the fact I told quite a transparent lie to his lordship.

I heard Sir Elric mumbled a counter jinx. Blinking I realised I could see again, admittedly all I could see was colourful blobs. It was an improvement and welcome relief.

"Like Godric, I don't believe you," Sir Elric snorted ruefully.

I looked to my feet I am sure my face resembled the colour of crimson blood. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. If I didn't think my situation could get any worse I hear a distinctive voice, "There you are Salazar… ah milords… you found him…"

I turned very slowly dreading to see the visage of my new mentor. Miss Cassia didn't look entirely pleased to see me.

"I see you are in one piece, Salazar," she commented, "… and seeing…"

"Miss Cassia… I…" she held up her hand in silence so I resorted to staring fixedly at my new doe skin boots, which Salome had gotten for me via Darcy.

"Cassia what is the meaning of this?" Sir Elric gestured around the forest looking particularly annoyed. I hadn't thought lying would have bothered him that much. I would learn later that Sir Elric was more perceptive than I had given him credit for; he already gathered what had happened.

"The boy sent to me that he had been ambushed, blinded and abandoned."

My redden cheeks grew worse.

"Truly," Sir Elric murmured in reply his keen eyes were already on me, "who attacked you boy?" There was a hint of sympathy in his voice but at the time I did not register it.

"I… I don't know…" I stammered.

"I see…" Elric returned in a tone that clearly said that he didn't see at all. He rubbed his bearded chin in agitation then abruptly turned his white stallion around. "Godric!" he called over his shoulder.

Godric gave me an appraising look and shook his head before turning his own small bay around and charging after his father.

For those who are not familiar with my other pieces the bold will usually signify messages sent from one mind to another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I try my hardest to be a good author and I'll be flattered if you thought I am JK Rowling. But honestly I am not – I'm just borrowing the world for this creative piece! **

**Godric**

I thought I would never regain my wounded pride after the incident with Hearne's over 'playful' game in the forest. It was Godric who taught me otherwise.

I had returned glumly back to Hogwarts Castle with Miss Cassia admonishing my stupidity at being ambushed in the forest.

"Don't you know how dangerous the forest are to be nigh during those hours… or at any hour?" Miss Cassia snorted in between large gulps of air. One would have thought I had been asked to be attacked the way she rebuked me.

I patched myself up and went to the chambers where Salome, my dutiful elder sister, ranted at me for my stupidity.

Believe me, I was glad when I fell asleep in her mid – raving.

A few days passed without much happening. I was still very itchy from the poison ivy and I spent my time avoiding Odelle Throckmorton who laughed hysterically in my direction every time she saw me. I was also avoiding Hearne Gryffindor; but that was not difficult to do. He would not be associated with the likes of me.

I finished my healers work and left straight for my chambers. Salome would bring me something to eat.

However on the fifth day, I was so sick and tired of being confined to the healer's chamber or my sleeping quarters, I brusquely walked out from the side of the castle and round the back of the stables where I knew I shouldn't be bothered.

I was wrong.

A hand reached out and squeezed my shoulders. Before I could jump up and run away. Godric Gryffindor ungracefully plonked down beside me.

"Didn't know your attacker, eh?" he asked a strange glint in his eyes.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts; I knew how guilty I had seemed. 

"Then if you didn't know your attacker, why did you lie to protect them?" Godric continued blinking innocently and glancing at me with large almond shaped eyes.

"I – er – I – well…"

"It was Hearne," Godric stated matter – of – fact. He must have read from my blank face confusion because he added simply in a dark tone, "My brother…"

I sighed heavily and turned my head away.

"It was Hearne!" Godric cried, standing up. "Why didn't you say _something_?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Would any have believed me?"

Godric's face darkened considerably as he sat once more beside me and stretched out his legs. "I would have..."

I snorted in reply.

"...and my poor father would have."

I glanced incredulously over at Godric who was blushing furiously and glaring as if captivated in the other direction.

"I'm sorry."

It was Godric's turn to snort. "You shouldn't be," he said bitterly, "Hearne was the one who blinded you and abandoned you in the middle of the forest."

Godric fumbled through the folds of his robes for a few moments before holding up an object. My wand. My wand broken into pieces.

"Hearne was gloating," Godric said returning my wand. I mumbled my thanks embarrassed and angry to see Hearne's destruction and his gloating about what he had done.

"That's how I knew he done it. So I took your wand." Godric shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly

I opened my mouth to say something but no willing words came forth. It was only when Godric scrambled to his feet, mumbling apologies that he was suppose to attending his study that I realized how long we had sat in silence in each others company.

It came to pass that another powerful wizarding family came to the Gryffindor stronghold. The Malfreds.

The Malfreds were (and still are) the most powerful wizarding family in England, Wales, Ireland and even France. If you were to ask my personal opinion – the world would be a much better place without the Malfreds bothering 'lesser' wizards.

I know my reputation in the wizarding world is hardly without blemish and perhaps you think it strange that I think so little of a pure blooded family. But my mind was firmly made up not long after seeing them for the first time and has not changed over my many years.

According to the Malfreds, the Gryffindors were no better than common peasants. I hated the way Adrian Malfreds (or more correctly Lord Adrian d'Malfreds) treated Sir Elric Gryffindor. The Gryffindors are what the Malfred clan referred to 'new blood' – a new clan with power in the region.

I once comforted a rather angry Godric Gryffindor with the fact that his clan proved themselves and earned their right as a family of influence. The Malfreds have done nothing for our kind but sit on their fancy backsides and watch as others like the Gryffindors made the sacrifices.

Oh, where was I?

That's right, the Malfreds came to Hogwarts Castle...

There was a great procession all the inhabitants of Hogwarts Castle turned out to see the great lords. I was standing with my sister, Salome on a low balcony. I had been up most of the night with a sick child who died in the early hours of the morning. Briona and I spent hours with the grief stricken mother – but alas she could not be comforted.

Lord d'Malfreds came first riding on a large black beast of a stallion. I swear its eyes were almost crimson.

A boy with fair hair, so extreme it was nearly snowy white, followed the great Lord. A permanent sneer was plastered on his face as if he surveyed the world about him with immeasurable distaste.

For a brief moment our eyes locked and the sneer grew dark. In those moments I hated him. Perhaps you think this was unreasonable of me. But my instinct warned me well of this character.

We would soon clash.

Godric came hurtling into my shared chambers in a flurry of a half buttoned cloak and wide excited eyes.

I had not yet been accustomed to Godric's excitable moods and so I woke with a shock as the young master of Hogwarts Castle bustled in with a cry of glee.

As soon as I realised it wasn't a dragon bursting into my room to disembowel me, I sunk straight back into my nice warm cushions and blankets.

Godric snorted loudly and pulled at my covers. "Come on! My father's gone with d'Malfreds we can go anywhere on the grounds unchecked!" 

I rolled over unimpressed. It had been a gruelling night in the healers' apartments and Miss Cassia had given me a day off.

I heard Godric's footsteps leading away and soon returning. I thought nothing of this movement until I was on the receiving end of a cold bucketful of water.

("That's the spirit!" the magical mirror cried from the other chamber.)

I sat up spluttering and glared up at Godric's beaming face. I don't exactly know when we became friends – I think Godric just took it into his mind that we were friends. One could hardly say no to the lord's son and besides, I was happy for one friendly face in the castle.

"I can take my horse and we'll borrow one for you," Godric directed. I looked into his face trying with all my might to make my scowl deepen. Godric was not used to being denied anything.

However as the mention of the horses sunk into my mind, I realized something with a sinking feeling of horror. "I can't ride!"

Godric laughed, turned his back, and through my day clothes at me so that hit me in the face. "I'll be waiting by the stables."

To say I am comfortable on a horse would be a gross overstatement. To this day, I can barely stand the stubborn four legged fools. Though Godric tells me it is the fool who is trying to ride them.

My first lesson was nothing less of a disaster and incident I would rather forget.

We abandoned the horses and wisely opted to use our own two feet to wander down to the lake. It would have been a wonderful day if only Malfreds had not turned up and on his arm was the only woman I would ever grow to hate with such loathing...the feeling was mutual.

Odelle simpered and prattled as she hung onto the lord's arm.

"Easy conquest," Godric nodded at the pair.

I grinned foolishly, "They suit each other."

Godric pulled a face as he surveyed them darkly. "I don't know who to feel sorry for."

We both threw our heads back and laughed which unfortunately alerted Malfred and Odelle to our presence. Furthermore the stuck up lord was making his way directly over to us.

"Uhoh." Godric stood and automatically brushed himself off, even though to my standards he looked immaculate.

"Tarrance!" Godric cried with false cheeriness as he grasped the young lord's arm.

"Godric," Oscar Malfred said with less enthusiasm staring me up and down with disdain. I stared back defiantly; I was learning not to let the upper classes not to make me feel inferior. It was something Godric was able to teach quite well, despite his failure at horse riding lessons.

"Who's this scoundrel?" Tarrance asked without thought or feeling for myself. It was like I didn't exist.

"Salazar Slytherin," I curtly replied before Godric could part his lips to reply for me, "I'm the healer. And I would appreciate it if you spoke to me instead of about me to my companion. Good breeding demands, doesn't it Godric?"

The shock written all over Tarrance d'Malfred's face was golden. Godric froze beside me his expression clearly saying oh-my-God-you-fool-Salazar-now-I-have-to-rescue-you.

"Erm… yes," Godric replied before realizing what he was saying.

"Don't tell me you know what good breeding is Salazar Slytherin," Odelle sneered.

"I would have a better inclination than you my dear," I said carelessly turning my back.

My heart was beating so fast in my chest. I had just rebuked the son of one of the most powerful wizarding nobles in Britian – heck Europe. And it felt good!

"Insolent SWINE!"

I had been a fool. I could feel the cold steel of Tarrance's thin blade against the exposed white of my neck. I shivered in fear.

Frozen in fear I heard the sound of clash of steel upon steel.

"Leave him!" I heard Godric snap harshly.

Turning my head slightly I saw that the other boys weren't too far behind me. Tarrance spat at me then swaggered away.

"The pig isn't worth it anyway..."

I should have learned my lesson from Hearne. Never mess with bratty insolent rich lads - you'll live to regret it later.

Then again. Never mess with Salazar Slytherin. I've gotten accustomed to having the last laugh.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to JK Rowling. Absolutely nothing but my wild imagination.  
**

**Dishonour**

Humans are such strange twisted creatures. There is good and evil in every race and in every clan. Believe me when I say that the Gryffindor clan, despite the generosity and friendship I received from them, was no exception to the rule.

Heartbreak came to the Gryffindors soon after d'Malfreds left for their homes. I, for one, was relieved when they left. I believe Sir Elric would agree with me that the atmosphere turned from dank and tense to gay and merry as soon as the prestigious lords left us.

I'm afraid I may have been the cause of the d'Malfreds early departure. Tarrance d'Malfreds left after a humilating experience of turning crimson and gold (the Gryffindor colours) at a large feast. Indeed the whole d'Malfred esort sported the same colours. To this day I don't think Godric appreciated my welcoming of the noble guests. Despite that I knew he enjoyed the rich upstart's face at the time. All I can say for myself and my childishness; pity it wasn't permanent.

So the d'Malfreds left cursing and I was left alone to bathe in my glory.

But, Hogwarts Castle had been changed by the Malfreds' visit; or to be more precise, someone.

Hearne Gryffindor became a tyrant. Well he became even more domineering and awful after he had met with d'Malfred.

Since being ambushed in the forest and Godric retrieving my poor wand, I became Hearne's main target for bullying about.

Nevertheless being friends with Godric Gryffindor does bring out one's courage. Frankly I didn't feel like being Hearne's victim and so I did not behave as one. This behaviour, however only incensed Godric's brother. I soon received my up comeuppance.

I had finished my lonely shift in the healers' quarters and was making my way up to my chambers. It was nearly dawn and the castle was in a sleepy state. The only noise in the stone corridor was the shuffling of my feet.

However dread filled me when I saw that the door to my shared chambers was ajar. I crept forward shivering as if even then I could sense the danger both myself and my sister were in.

Hearing a choked sob broke my frozen state as I recognized the timbre of my sister's voice. Another low growl answered the sob.

I pushed past the door with a crash and beheld the scene in horror. Hearne was holding my sister roughly against the wall. Salome had tears running down her cheeks but was otherwise inert. I could see the gooseflesh of fright rising to her white porcelain skin underneath a soft white night dress.

"What are you doing?" I cried without thinking of the consequences. I strode across the room and grabbed Hearne's muscled arms and tried to wrench the eldest son of my benefactor away from my sister. "Leave her!" I demanded.

Hearne flicked me away casually as if I was nothing but a mere fly; something that was beneath his notice. Very slowly his head turned to regard me coldly with blazing eyes. Red veins wound around the whites of his eyes; I knew then he had been drinking heavily and was all the more dangerous.

"I want your sister and I shall have," Hearne hiss pressing Salome harder into the wall. Salome gave a squeal of fright and tried to kick him as his body pressed forward. Hearne only laughed heartily at her.

I scrambled to my feet ignoring the protests in my mind that Hearne was all the more treacherous now that he was clearly drunk. Gone was his sober thoughts. He would not stop until he got what he wanted. But I did not care…

"Leave her!" I repeated pulling out my broken wand. Hearne looked at me coldly and laughed. He released Salome, who ran for the exit sobbing hysterically, to turn and face me.

"Expellarmus!" My broken wand flew in a graceful arch and into Hearne's outstretched hand. He threw my wand to the other side of the room and pulled out his own slender wand and pointed it at my chest. His eyes were gleaming like those that belonged to a madman.

"Salazar has come out to play, has he?" Hearne sneered as he circled about me as if I was his trembling prey. I stood erect and looked in his eyes. I was not going to allow him to torment me nor was I going to play his game.

"Shall I show you a new curse I invented?" he drawled circling ever closer. I stood immobile my eyes never left him. I would not show him my fright.

"I think you might find it interesting." Hearne smiled sickeningly, tracing the fine line of his wand with a finger. His eyes lifted to my face and apparently he liked what he saw. To this day I hoped he did not see my fear or dread.

"Exciting spell." Hearne tapped my shoulder with my wand as he passed me again. I jolted and he laughed at my ever crumbling nerves. I knew that whatever he had planned for me wasn't going to be pleasant.

I swallowed deeply and forced myself to find my voice. "I am not afraid of you Hearne," I whispered in the room. I was pleased to hear that my voice sounded smooth as if I was merely bored.

Hearne however laughed mirthlessly. "Your actions tell me otherwise, fen rat."

He was behind my back again I turned by head to stare at him. "You mistake me sir," I replied flatly.

Hearne laughed again and I felt the warm breath on my neck. It sent shivers up my spine. "No my friend," Hearne chortled, "it is you who is mistaken."

The point of Hearne's wand rested in the small of my back. My body involuntarily stiffened; waiting for the inevitable attack.

I heard the whisper of the spell and fell forwards writhing and wriggling in agony. Simple words cannot describe what I felt in those prolonged seconds. Pain beyond pain. I had heard of the Crucio the dreaded curse of pain. But never in my readings had I heard of torture reaching the insides of one's body. My intestines felt they were on fire, my heart felt like it was being torn by talons of an eagle; I was laying prone on the floor panting and choking on my own life blood.

Hearne was standing over me victoriously laughing merrily at my agony. I retched and felt warm thick clots of blood seeping down my chin. I wiped my mouth with a sleeve so that the fabric was nearly black with rich blood. I gagged again and forced myself to sit and glare at my tormentor.

"Be gone…" I hissed; or more correctly I attempted to hiss. Hearne clearly got the message as he applied the curse on me again. I was once again feeling as if my body was being pulled inside out. I swear I thought my brain would explode or my heart burst with the pressure I was feeling.

The curse lifted again and I was left face down on the carpet; my nose and cheeks covered with my own blood and yet I could not move.

I passed out…

My shattered mind came back to consciousness as a gentle essence crept into my mind. **'Salazar…'**

I am not sure if I shifted to a more comfortable position as I tried to grasp to the fleeting pieces of my mind. **'Salazar…'**

I groaned inwardly feeling my own intense pain and shame that my body had gone into shock. Hearne had beaten me again. I had let him win. All I wanted to do was to drift back into unconsciousness.

'**Salazar…'**

My eyes fluttered upon and images swam in front of my eyes. "Ah good you're awake." Godric's face wavered into view. He was cradling my head in his arms. I struggled to sit, but Godric placed a firm hand on my now bare chest. He frowned and glanced up anger smoldering in his large innocent eyes.

"Go and make yourself useful and get Cassia," he snapped harshly. His wand was pointing to someone the corner of the room. I turned my head slightly swallowing to see Hearne; looking rather sheepish and intimidated by his younger brother.

I groaned as my muscles spasmed underneath me. "Hush." Godric said brushing my hair away. "I'm not a good healer… Cassia will be here soon…" I choked on my own blood again and forced myself to swallow.

"Hearne…" I whispered shaking my head feebly causing shots of pain to explode in my neck.

"Hush." Godric placed a finger on my lips and I felt him shift his weight slightly. "I gave Hearne the shock of his life." Godric smiled thinly. "I was always the better wizard."

"Salome…" 

Godric pattered my shoulder friendly. "Always thinking of your beautiful sister instead of yourself," he teased.

I smiled wanly; I do believe my face was the colour of chalk.

"Darcy has taken her to the gardens to calm her. She's in shock…"

Seeing the trepidation in my face Godric quickly continued, "She's fine. Just a little shaken and Darcy is a welcome…" Godric's foolish grin widened. "Friend… close friend…he won't let anything happen to her…"

I started to shiver I swear I felt frozen. Godric took my trembling hands in my own and clasped them tightly to warm them.

"Salazar stay with me," Godric frantically squeezed my hands as my eyes started to close as if lead weights were attached to my eye lashes, "stay conscious…"

I squeezed Godric's hand back. I was painfully aware of the throbbing of my temples

and the sluggish beating of my heart. My eyes started to close…

"Salazar…" 

Darkness. Nothingness. Blackness. Bliss…

I drifted in an unknown land. Somewhere I hovered between life and death, or so it seemed.

Coolness. Wetness. Liquid. Soothing…

The first sensation to return to me was taste. A bitter sweet concoction of healing remedy.

Sound. Words. Voices. Peaceful…

"It was called the Serykah," a firm young voice said, "Hearne invented it."

"Well he should be wakening to consciousness soon," a women said by my ear. 

I blinked hard. Light. Blinding Light. For a moment I thought I might have been dead.

I raised my head a little with a strangled cried and realized with a rush of smarting injuries I was very much alive.

"Lie down you stupid boy." Miss Cassia's face swirled in front of me and a wave of nausea hit me like a tidal wave. I pursed my lips tightly and swallowed my own foul mixture of bile and blood.

"What does this Serykah curse do?" Miss Cassia her back to me and was fumbling somewhere out of my vision.

"It attacks the internal organs," came the apologetic reply. "That's why there was so much blood."

I shifted my shoulder blades stiffly and realized I was lying on a cold hard stone bench, which meant I was in the healers' quarters as a patient. The irony of the situation struck me and I tried vainly to sit.

Godric's face smiled sadly as he pushed me down. "You're not going anywhere in this state, my friend."

Miss Cassia returned with various bottles and then without any ceremony she ripped me free of my shirt. All I could do was to close my eyes and surrender to her healing hands…

I woke for the third time to find myself in sleeping cot in a quiet corner of the healers' quarters. I curled my body up around myself and stretched. For some strange reason my skin did not feel as if it belonged to me.

"I'm really sorry for what Hearne did to you."

I turned to the sound of a voice and smiled wanly. I opened my mouth to say something but my throat seemed too raw to form any comprehensible words.

Godric Gryffindor smiled but it did not reach his honey gold eyes. It was the first time I saw tears of outrage glimmering just out of view.

"If only you knew how sorry I am!" Godric cried taking my hands. I looked up into his ashen face; he was paler than the whitest snow of winter and trembling. I doubt he had eaten a decent meal in the last few days.

Because I could not find the words or the strength or the will power to reply I squeezed his hands.

"Hearne has been punished," Godric assured me with a watery smile.

I stiffened wondering if it was Hearne's punishment that gave him so much grief.

"He has been banished. Father roared himself hoarse… he'll never darken our castle ever again…" Godric gave a sniffle, "but his memory will darken my poor papa's hearts forevermore."

I squeezed his hands again and choked back the soreness. "Sorry…" I managed to croak.

Godric titled his head and glanced at me inquisitively. "For what?"

I swallowed and licked my lips. "For your father's grief…" Godric looked stunned, like a deer that had been trapped by a pack of wolves. "For your own grief."

Godric's cheeks reddened and he let slip a solitary tear pass his guard and it ran down his pale cheeks.

"I thought he had killed you," Godric admitted, his eyes were lit up in a nameless fear, "I thought Hearne was a murderer."

"You will not hear any retribution of your clan from my mouth," I promised.

Godric blush deepened. "Salazar…"

"That is my oath…" I continued.

Godric grinned but the sadness remained in his glistening eyes. "Then if you make an oath; then shall I."

It was my turn to feel embarrassed. "Godric…"

Godric ignored my protests and fumbled under his cloak. And pulled out a chain with an amulet hanging from it. Without much ceremony Godric lifted my head and laid

the icy chain against my cool skin.

"I promise you shall always have a lion looking out for your back."

I turned the cool pendant over. It was a silver lion face with a long curled up snake encircling the edges. Rubies studded the lion's eyes and the snake had and emerald green eye that glistered.

"I used some of your sister's research to make the magic in it. It'll bound us for all time," Godric announced. "It should help awaken any dormant power you might have… do you like?"

I was shaken. No one have given me a gift before and certainly not such a costly gift before. "It's beautiful…"

"Now we're bonded brothers," Godric stated proudly. "I'm the lion and you, my friend, are the snake…"

I gasped in shock and horror. Did Godric know my dirty, filthy secret? 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's characters. **

**Immortality**

Parseltongue. The language of snakes. I lived for many years in constant fear of my curse. I was afraid of the evil I was born with. Well, that was before Godric opened my eyes to the great gift I was given.

No human, muggle or magic, is born evil. I am what I am. Godric taught me that along with embracing myself and my destiny.

And it all started with the simple display of friendship in the damn amulet. Godric I was soon to learn was fascinated with a strand of magic known as the protective magics.

Protective magics were an obscure branch and were considerably dangerous. Over the years little had been known about them, that was before Godric Gryffindor. If poor Sir Elric knew what his remaining son was tinkering with this strand of magic… well let us just say that the Gryffindor temper is famous for a reason.

Enough of that! Where was I? Ah the amulet…

Godric was not satisfied in giving me such an expensive gift – no he had burrowed it on many occasions to improve it. Over the years my dear friend added several of his invented spells.

The first spell dear Godric added was to give the possessor, namely myself, unnatural calm and courage. Of course Godric was obsessed with courage along with chivalry, honour and nobility.

The second spell he used was to strike fear into the hearts of any who meant the possessor ill. Godric said this was necessary seeing as I was hopeless with weapons. HECK! I did have a wand and I most certainly was not hopeless with that. If I wasn't I wouldn't be a renowned wizard now would I? And of course he never did consider that I am a healer after all… Maybe Godric should have invented a spell that would prevent him from having serious injuries…

All the while these developments was done behind Sir Elric's back. But I was certain he knew that dear, dear Godric was up to something. Deception did not become Godric.

You must by now have the concept of Godric's unnatural curiosity with the protective magics.

In fact it was Godric's infatuation for danger that fuelled my own desire to learn more about my 'gift.' Needless to say Godric was thrilled about this as there was a certain amount of danger involved.

It started simple with a few garden snakes conjured out of bandages I had borrowed from the healer's quarters. And it finished with a basilisk and the ending of my bachelorhood.

I had grown in confidence over the years I had Godric as a friend. His companionship was priceless, although I still refuse to get on the back of a horse.

I would like to maintain that it was all Godric's fault. It was his idea and his plan.

What many people do not realise is that poison can take life and it can give life. Many people do not think about this when they consider the lowly serpent.

On this day Godric came bursting into the healers' quarters shouting my name at the top of his lungs…

"I hope it's not another broken limb master Gryffindor," Briona commented softly so none but I could hear. I chuckled – Godric had a reputation in the healers' circle.

Godric raced in and skidded to a halt before me. "You won't believe what I've got!" Godric cried as discreetly as his excitement would allow him.

I looked up expectantly and Godric placed a small box on the table. "Go on take a look."

I opened the box gingerly; with Godric I am never quite sure what to expect.

Inside was a long green serpent small curled up with a large red feathered crest and its eyes bandaged over. I slammed the box shut violently.

"A baslisk!" I hissed angrily, "Godric are you nuts."

Godric was looking bemused and still somewhat proud of himself. It was like watching the cat that had the cream.

"Godric they're dangerous," Briona said frantically inching away from the box. Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say to Godric Gryffindor.

"Don't you think, Silus, is beautiful?" Godric asked feigning hurt.

Briona did not look amused. On the occasion she had been enlisted to help with our serpent experiments and usually was thrilled to help out. But Godric had gone too far.

"I don't think you call that thing beautiful," I answer wearily edging closer towards Briona.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Godric announced picking up the box and glancing over me regally. "Tarrance d'Malfred thinks Odelle is beautiful but I think I would rather dance with one of Father's pigs in a frilly dress."

Both Briona and I snort back our laughter. Godric had said this with an air of complete boredom and nobility one would have thought he was commenting on the weather. It was common knowledge that Briona and Odelle's mother tried to force Godric into a betrothal with Odelle… There was some bad blood between them since the gold digging plan back fired.

"Seriously," Godric said tilting his head so that his large brown eyes looked pleadingly at me, "think of all the fantastic discoveries in the basilisks' venom. And Salazar you could learn to control it with your 'gift'…"

I scratched my chin to allow myself some think time. "I wonder what it does," I thought aloud.

Godric was beaming and pushed the box with a surprising quickness into my arms. "Silus will love you I can tell." And it the next moment Godric scampered away before I could refuse.

I was sitting cross legged on the floor, Briona slumped before me. Every so often she would mutter warnings about opening the tempting box that I held out in front.

I admit I was afraid of the potential in the box and yet I was very curious to see what I could create from the venom. There was no doubts in my mind that I could. Like my mother before me I was creative or rather unorthodox in remedies.

Without looking at my faithful sidekick I slipped the box open a crack. Silus our slippery slithery friend was curled up sleeping, his eyes were still bandaged over. Of course for those ignorant need to know that to see into the basilisks' eyes was to see ones demise. There stare is fatal.

But Silus was asleep and his eye bounded over. Where was the danger in him? Foolish me forgot to think clearly.

The lid slid to the floor and I made a low hissing noise awakening my friend. He lifted his diamond shaped head from the floor swaying from side to side before I picked him up in my nervous clammy hands. Briona was shifting away in revulsion.

Silus was not happy being woken up but I ignored his indigent hissing and nodded for Briona to hand me a vial. She looked uncertainly at the baby basilisk to my face and with shaking pearl white hands handed me the vial.

I would never forget the next seconds in my life. Briona's silken white wrists exposed and Silus' long neck and quick dart as he bit into my assistants' naked flesh. Briona's yelp of pain and the shattering of the glass vial.

I think I screamed at Silus as I dumped in undignified into his box and rammed the lid closed.

Briona fainted and I knew I had very little time. The basilisk's poison works extremely quickly and there was no known cure – I doubt there ever would be.

Ever since the fateful day that Hearne attacked me in the forest I have carried a small hunting knife in my boots; just in case.

In those panicking seconds I whipped my knife out and pressed it to Briona's wound. I sucked the poison out with my lips and spat it aside. The poison tasted foul – even fouler that one's own ear wax. It was the taste of death.

I worked frantically and by the time I was finished and Briona was still breathing I knew the danger was over. She was pale as a ghost. I lifted her up and lay her on my own bed her long blonde hair covering my pillows. Her blonde lashes touched her pale cheeks… she was strangely beautiful in those moments.

I was furious. With both myself and Godric. How could I have let this happen? How could Godric talk me into such foolishness?

After the incident with the basilisk I did not willingly speak to Godric for days. This would be our first major disagreement in our long friendship. And it would not be the last.

Godric was deeply hurt by my avoidance of him. I really didn't wish to make him feel bad but every time I saw him I felt a twinge of guilt and shame.

The only time I spoke to him was to hand him his precious Silus back and told him to get rid of the ruddy snake. He was not pleased.

Briona on the other hand – I found myself fawning over her. Wanting to make it up to her. She was furious but she never let it show and I only admired her more for it. If I was wise I would have realised what was happening to me. But I was never known for my wisdom. Saving a women's life… well that's something special.

Godric's apology came a fortnight later in the form of a little vial on my bed. It was tied with the Gryffindor colours and that is how I knew it was him.

It was a vial of basilisk venom.

Godric had retrieved the venom for me… it would be the first of many an odd apology in our friendship. A fitting end to our first argument. Sealed with one simple word.

'_Sorry.' _


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Salazar and Godric in this story are merely representations or rather interpretations of information given in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series.

Immortality

It is strange how after Briona's accident with the basilisk, Silus, that the venom was soon forgotten. I didn't think I wanted to handle the mixture even though Godric must have gone to extraordinary lengths to get it for me.

Weeks intermingled with months and the months grew into years. I finished my apprenticeship and became a fully fledged healer. Miss Cassia died a few  
years after my completion and Briona and myself shared the task as the healers at Hogwarts Castle.

Godric Gryffindor also had done well with himself. He married a young maid, Alieen Bones, who had been chosen by his father. All before his eighteenth birthday. Godric was never a romantic heart and was not fazed by this task that some strapping youths grapple with. I think he was relieved in a way.

He and Alieen had met the pervious summer and unlike any other girls of the nobility, dear Ali was not afraid to laugh at herself and more importantly be herself around Godric. They had become fast friends and Godric, the ever dutiful son, bowed his head to his father's wishes.

It wasn't long after Godric married, that poor Sir Elric found out about his son's dangerous fascination with protective magics. As I had predicted Sir Elric was furious and Godric could be seen wincing every time he saw his father for at least a week afterwards.

But despite his natural urge to be compelled to protective magics, Godric soon began to make a name for himself throughout the land with all the spells he had created in secret. He spent so much time gathering youngsters to teach them that I am now surprised our hollowed school was not created earlier.

Oh and dear Salome and Darcy. They had married a year before and had left the castle to live in a small wizarding community a few miles away. I forgot the name of the village but as my tale will tell the village was not there for very long. It is no longer a place of habitation for magical or muggle. None would live there in the later days.

But enough of that! About me...

Ahem! Well I married shortly after Godric. To whom, you may ask? To Briona Throckmorton. It caused such a terrible scandal in the castle and neither her sister Odelle nor her mother was present during our wedding feast. That was perfectly fine with me.

Her poor deranged father came. He was a wonderful gentleman. Perfectly polite and welcoming; Briona must have taken after her father. But even at this early stage, I suspected he was becoming senile.

After embracing his youngest daughter affectionately he came to me and clapped my back. With beady eyes that gazed everywhere but at me; he pressed a small object into my palm. Before I could look down to see what it was he closed my palm into a fist and shook it slightly.

"It was mine once," he said proudly.

I could only look at him dumbly while my new wife was beaming at my side.  
"My da gave it to me," he continued cheerily; his eyes were still roaming the room. "And I give it ta ye now! my new son."

I blushed and hastily thanked him profusely for his blessing. He nodded wryly as if I was naught by a silly child and wistfully added. "I don't like me other daughter's husband the stupid d'Malfrid make sure you two have a baby (preferably a boy but honestly a wee lassie will do) before them."

Then with a click of his heels he was gone. I had watched him for a moment then I returned to the object in my hand. A ring. A gold ring with a large black stone with something etched into it.

"Peverell coat of arms," Briona whispered in my ear, "Generations of purebloods in my family have worn this. Now it comes to you."

I shrugged slipped it onto my finger and draped my arm around her shoulders.  
"How about we ensure another generation?" I said winking. Briona slapped my arm but laughed at me lightly.

I shrugged innocently. "Only following your father's command."

I found the venom one later wintry afternoon. I was alone in the healers' quarters when I found it. Something I felt lead me there.

I don't know how or why, but I started to pour the clear liquid into a glass jar and started to add all sorts of things into the liquid just to see what would happen.

I worked furiously over this misguided project for hours and hours. But finally I finished something that resembled a foul smelling mess. I shoved on a pair of dragon hide gloves to protect my hands and dipped my finger in.

The liquid hissed and bubbled and spurted.

I instantly knew then I had created something horrible but I was keen to find out exactly what it was.

One of my patients had left behind an old ugly neckpiece. I shrugged and because it was in easy range I picked it up without thinking and painted the  
potion onto the surface of the object.

For one moment I turned by back and a horrible screech reached my ears. I clamped my hands over my ears and turned around to see a horrible grey rat  
struggling and scrambling as if it was in terrible pain.  
I absolute horror of what I had made I found an obsidian box and ran to my new chambers I shared with my wife.

Briona was on our bed resting the bump that was to be our son was now unmistakable. "What have you brought in here?"

For a moment I thought of lying but I knew of Briona's curiosity and I could not risk her or the baby's life.

"I've created something horrible," I replied shaking my head to clear my thoughts. I rummaged through a wardrobe and then had second thoughts. Briona  
watched me as I took it to my desk and added a complicated locking charm on the box. I rushed back to the wardrobe to hide it.

"Why not destroy it?" Briona inquired lightly rubbing her belly and watching me with stern eyes.

That question froze me in my tracks. And the answer hit me like a tonne of quills.

"It might come in useful sometime," I added shrugging, "Who knows what else I could create."

I was onto my second experiment when Godric burst in looking flushed and   
excited. "Alieen's with child!" he cried in my ear. I winced and looked up at him smiling.

"The potion for her is in the cabinet," came my curt reply.

Godric wandered over to the cabinet and pulled out a complicated potion.   
"How did you know?" Godric asked me puzzled, giving me his father's appraising look.

"Make sure she takes it; after two miscarriages..."

Godric nodded his head solemnly. "Must you remind me?" he almost whined but he managed to remain sounding his noble and commanding self.

"Sorry," I apologized ruefully, turning back to my experiment, "it's a sad fact of life in the healers' world."

I had seen so much death in my profession that even Godric and Alieen's tragic loss didn't seem to wound me as much as it did Briona. I had felt pain for Godric and his wife but not a sadness for the child.

"You didn't answer my question!" Godric said starting me out of my daydream.

"Oh! Well," I glanced slyly at my friend, I knew he was still searching for answers for how I knew Alieen was pregnant. "I knew it wouldn't be long with the likes of you."

Godric blushed crimson.

"Should I be expecting twins?" I teased.

Godric's blush deepened. "Hearne's wife, Catrona, is with child too," he added to change the subject.

My mood instantly darkened I had not forgiven Hearne for what he had done. "I thought Hearne made sure she couldn't contact us."

Godric shrugged. "She sent it by her pet owl."

"Oh, how novel."

"She's excited."

"Hmm."

"Do you think Hearne will...you know," Godric's voice drop off. "hurt her or the baby if it's a girl?"

I glanced at Godric and shook his head. "No father, even Hearne, would hurt his own child."

Godric didn't look convinced.

"Besides, the great Sir Hearne Gryffindor, the hero of England, is greatly in love with his wife."

Godric rolled his eyes. Hearne had been champion for only six months, but my vindictive nature made me mock him at every possible turning. I know this  
habit got under Godric's skin, but my dear friend never reprimanded me or complained.

"Perhaps he should be having twins too," I continued with a grin, turning back to my work. Behind me I heard Godric's exasperated sigh and a small thank you before he turned and left me in peace.

My experiment was almost over I had trapped a few rats from the kitchen and made a fail safe box to keep them in and fed them my new concoction. Briona  
was so heavily pregnant with our first child she was no longer able to make it to the healers' quarters so there was no chance that she could be upset with my pet rats.

I smiled thinly as I picked up my wand and pointed it to the rats.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" I cried.

I green jet of energy burst from the end of my wand and hit the rats. I let a cry of victory escape my lips.

Inside my box all the rats were alive. I had created something akin to immortality.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowlings Stuff!

Sanctuary

Another great witch joined us at Hogwarts Castle and she would bring another and seal out destinies.

I, for quite obvious reasons, was not well acquainted with the art of midwifery. Under the gentle urging of Briona and the not so gentle insisting of Godric, another famed healer was brought to the castle. A woman: Helga Hufflepuff.

It was she who delivered my one and only child. A raven haired son, Earven, whom I unashamedly doted on. It was Helga who has the credit of planting the  
seed of idea into Godric's, or more importantly, Sir Elric's mind.

Her idea of a sanctuary was appealing to magical folk. And soon it took a fanciful root in Godric's scheming plans. And Sir Elric presumed himself to be the benefactor of a new revolutionary ˜school".

Some would never believe me if I told them how cunning dear sweet Helga Hufflepuff was. Yet Helga soon revealed her cunning plan to rope me into her  
plans.

I was soon to learn through my sources as the castle's head healer; that Helga Hufflepuff was allegedly very good friends with Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. This was enough to make any man take notice. Rowena was known throughout Europe (by magical folk) as a steady studious woman who was famed for her almost unnatural intelligence. Of course, all Rowena happened to need for her school was land and mentors for her brilliant idea for a school.

Ever enthusiastic Godric agreed to giving his inheritance - that is Hogwarts for this new grand concept. Sir Elric of course was behind his youngest  
son (or shall I say only son) all the way.

I admit at the start I was indifferent to the plans. I was a young man with a new family and was mainly concerned with my new son and writing gloating  
notes to a furious Tarrance d'Malfred. I hear Odelle was beside herself with rage.

So preoccupied I was with other tings I was extremely late to the banquet in the honour of Lady Ravenclaw who had arrived earlier that day.

I ran in through the side door hoping against the fates of the heavens that I would not be noticed and slowly sate down beside my seething wife. If I thought a quiet entry would allow me to be ignored I was gravely mistaken.

"Ah!" Godric cried immediately standing and raising a goblet over his head in greeting. I smiled wanly at my friend in return. "Here he is our new healer mentor."

My jaw opened instantaneously at the thought of Godric presuming I wanted to teach youngsters. But Godric ignored this fact and continued speaking.

"Salazar I was just telling Rowena that you delivered my little Gwerys without the aide of Helga."

I forced a thin smile onto my lips. After delivering Godric's daughter, I promised myself "Never again!" I helped Alieen because the baby was coming and  
Helga Hufflepuff was in the nearby village.

I glanced down in disbelief at Briona who was beaming and I knew at once that truth. I had been nominated not by Godric, but by my own wife, whom I   
could deny nothing.

Before I could utter a murmur of protest an elegant woman dressed in a gown of a blue hewn stood and raised her proud dark eyes to meet mine. I think it  
would be fair to say I felt naked in front of her. Her expression was one of calm, but this did little to reassure me. Surly this woman knew too much.

"I am pleased to meet the distinguished Salazar Slytherin."

I swallowed and stared into her dark pools, which seemed to be begging me to drown. "Lady," I answered my voice was uncharacteristically husky, "would not your trusted friend Helga be a much better teacher than I?"

"Undoubtedly," she answered bluntly. Her voice was still and confident. I bristled at the insult, but forced my face to remain stoically impassive. "But Helga will be teaching about the healing herbs. I still need someone to teach the healing arts. It is imperative for our young ones, wouldn't you agree?"

"It is," I returned. To this day, I have not met with a professor who will not defend his own subject.

"It is" Two simple words that sealed my destiny to become a teacher of young magical minds and the road to fame and misfortune.  
'

'

'

The plans for the school were finalised a few months later. Mostly due to Ravenclaw's zeal for work; she had done much in that time and I honestly doubt that she ever got enough sleep.

Godric, fine Godric would be teaching the art of defence as he believed that young minds were too sensitive to protective magics. We couldn' have   
apprentices accidentally killing ourselves with magic now could we? A select few were taught privately by Godric the dangerous strand and it did in the  
early stages cause a rift between students. Godric however, being impressive and very much likable soon stamped out the problem.

Ravencalw herself was teaching charms and the theory behind magic. Helga taught about herbs (both magical and not magical) and their uses in healing   
and potions. Of course I was teaching the healing arts between my duties as a healer.

The demand for the magical school was so high and the number of interested parents and students increased by the day that it soon became obvious the  
students needed to be divided in cohorts.

"We'll look after a cohort each," Helga decided without really asking any of us what we thought.

"Good idea, lass," Sir Elric replied nodding his head. Since he was a benefactor, Rowena allowed him to attend all our meetings and to join in with our discussions.

"And..." Helga started to clap her hands together, "Each cohort should have a name."

Godric nodded and wearily looked out the window contemplating. He looked thoroughly miserable. I had told him earlier (and rather bluntly) that Alieen should have no more children. Reaching over I pat his knee  
sympathetically; I knew how much his heart bled for a sibling for Gwerys. It was in that moment a brilliant idea formed in my mind.

"Our surnames would serve our purpose."

Godric looked up with a sigh when he saw my beaming face.

"Cheer up Goddy, my lad," Elric said clapping Godric roughly on his shoulder. "Be thankful for your beautiful daughter."

Godric ran his hand through his hair nodding lightly but gave no other indication that he heard his father's words. "Surnames is a good idea," he conceded as if he was bored.

Ravenclaw too clever for her own good, perceived Godric's problem or more to the point his jealously.

"You envy your brother," she said lightly. Both Helga and I were glaring her down. Tact was something she learnt a little later on.

Godric's reply to his was only to growl in reply.

"All of England is talking about the Great Champion's new son. They say he is a beautiful little boy; strong and healthy."

I swear if Rowena wasn't a woman I would have thumped her right then and there. She was clueless to the pain she was causing the two Gryffindors. I  
watched afraid as Godric's cheeks reddened. Gwerys, despite her mother's gentle features, had a tendency to fall ill and I knew the fear her frailness caused her courageous father.

"I can't remember the name they gave him. Nice name; good strong and bold."

"Rhodderyk," Godric supplied glumly, "Rhodderyk Jonathan Gryffindor. Hearne is planning on having another son."

I rolled my eyes. _How could a man possibly plan on having a son?_

I chanced a look at Sir Elric whose face also depicted a wild thunderstorm. I could clearly see what he was thinking in his mind. Rhodderyk would be a grandsire he would never have a chance to see...

Godric stood to leave and I went to follow him. Outside the chamber door I stopped him. "Gwerys is all the more beautiful because she is yours, Godric."

Godric smiled and I was surprised to see the smile reach his honey gold eyes. "How is it you always know what to say?"


	13. Chapter 13

Genocide

Days turned in weeks, weeks into months and the months into two years. Until then nothing in my life seemed to have changed. We had become famous in the magical world, respected and looked up to. Everything was going well until that horrible February night.

The night that changed my life was bitterly cold. I was warm in my bed, fast asleep when I was awoken by a strange feeling of dread. It was akin to a large cube of icicles lodged in my stomach and intestines. If it was at all possible my blood and insides froze in fright.

As my eyes snapped open I heard Salome's presence buffeting against my sleep ridden mind. It was a single shrill cry of **'Salazar'.** Time remained still as thick bitter bile rose into my throat.

Sitting up abruptly rousing Briona from her slumber I scrambled out of bed. My rushed exit had awoken Earven who had once more magically migrated into  
our shared bed.

Salome's presence was soon joined by her husband William Darcy. He did not communicate through words. Rather I smelled the wood burning and saw the thin tendrils of smoke curling above the village. I heard children squalling; women screaming and the shouts of husbands and fathers calling out in sheer panicked desperation.

**'I'm coming.'**

I glanced into Earven's confused dark eyes. He was still yet a babe and did not know of the horrors of this world. He was intelligent nonetheless and he knew even then something awful was happening. He whimpered to see me in such a deep state of panic.

A shiver of dread race up my spine. I reached forward and kissed Briona's brow.  
"I'll be back soon," I said, then I adeptly appartated.

For those who have never experienced such traveling as apparition, there is no way for me to describe it accurately to you. I'll only say this: be glad you have not had to apparate.

The moment I appeared in Salome's sleepy little village I reeled to see the damage that had been done. Houses were burning and the screams were like a  
constant stream of hellish sounds in my ears. Even now, years after the horrific events I wake from slumber with the reverberating sounds of the  
dying.

On the air I could smell blood, sweat and all the other not so lovely things that came from battle. It seemed surreal. The wizarding village was undertake from muggles. It was in the dead of night; obviously the muggles had attacked when the wizards had not expected to defend themselves. They had been caught in the dark with their pants down so to speak.

Confusion was rife. There was no order. It was every man to save his own skin and family. There was nothing they could have done.

I raced through the blood stained streets looking in the dark of the little lane Salome had described to be in one of her letters. I past the blacksmith, the baker and ah-ha!

I slipped through an ally way and found myself at the back of a wizarding pub; much like the ones Godric and I enjoyed to frequent.

Behind the pub was a small cottage with white walls and a quaint little garden. I knew this to be Salome's home. It was engulfed in flames.

**'My baby Salazar,'** Salome was screaming at a fever pitch, **'my baby is burning!'**

I gasp caught in my throat. Her first child, a boy, was only a few months old. Darcy had proudly written and told me what a bonny child his new son was.

'**It's okay, I'll get him out,' **I promised. There was nothing. Salome didn't reply and I would never hear her voice again. But at the time I had not thought about Salome's lack of response.

I rushed in. William, dear William, was lying in his own blood on the threshold of his home. But I did not stop to mourn. I could not awaken the dead or more accurately I knew I dare not reanimate the dead and I could hear the faint wailing of his child.

I moved quickly coming to a small room where a bed with its quilts and cushions were burning. In the corner I spied a baby' cot; hand made. I had sent it as a gift to Salome when I heard the birth of her first child was imminent.

Clutching my side as I breathed in too much smoke I realized I would never reach him in time. The roof was unstable - we would never make it to the front door.

"Accio baby," I coughed nearly doubling over with smoke inhalation. I caught the little bundle as it came directly towards me squirming and screaming. If  
I felt absolutely horrid at that moment I wonder how little Saxtyn (as he was named) was feeling.

This is why the muggles disgust me so. Leaving a harmless new born child to burn in his cot defenceless. It was not as if he could fight his way out of the situation.

Argh! I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So there I was standing in the middle of Salome's and William's room holding their only child and the roof was about to come down on my head.

I didn't allow any time to pass. As soon as I felt Saxtyn's weak kicks, telling me despite my sore watering eyes he was safe in my arms I apparated  
home.

"Salazar."

I quickly handed Saxtyn into Briona's arms. Saxtyn on the other hand was quite content to scream out his little lungs. Trust me he had a fine set of lungs.

"Salazar, whose baby is this?" Briona asked rocking him gently and making cooing noises.

"Salome's."

"Salome?"

I nodded as the grief over William's death finally caught up with me.

"William is dead."

"Dead?"

"Aye."

"But…"

My warning glance at Earven who had been awoken rudely by his little cousin's cry was enough to silence her.

**'Salome.'**

I was meet with silence. Absolute silence. A cold dread filled me in those moments.

'**Salome?'**

Nothing.

'**Salome, I have your child.**

Silence echoed about me and I realized the truth that I had been denying myself. I realized I had known all along.

'**SALOME!'**

I broke down then. Tears streamed down my face as I gave a cry of rage. Earven ducked underneath our covers surprised at my display of emotion. It may seem strange to you that one such as I: Salazar Slytherin would have such an ability to feel this emotion and express it. I am human after all.

I don't know how long I stood in my mourning state where time has no application or meaning. I just stood and mourned.

But I eventually came out of it. This awakening was sudden. My head snapped up and I glanced at Briona who was cradling our nephew.

"Here," I took Saxtyn from her arms and crossed the room, where Earven's old cot stood collecting dust. He had stopped his squawking during my mourning  
but I had been oblivious to it happening.

"Salazar, you can't put him in there!"

I looked up as Briona's bustled across the room in nothing but her night shift. She smiled wanly at me as she dusted the carved wood and found a new  
clean blanket. She took him from my arms, laid him down and tucked him in.

"I thought as a healer you would have known better."

I nodded wearily.

Earven was still curled up in our blankets. I strode over to him, plucked him out and lifted him into the air.

"You be good to your mother and baby cousin while I'm gone."

Earven, ever serious, as I held him aloft over my head, nodded energetically. "I will, Pappa." I kissed his forehead and put him down.

"Then you can start by going back to sleep, Pappa has something he must do."

Earven nodded again and obediently lay down. I looked over to Briona meaningfully. "I need to fine her."

It was nearly dawn when I apparated back into Salome's village with Godric. When I had pounded on Godric's door and told him of my sorry story, he had  
insisted that he come with me.

Very soon Hogwarts Castle knew of our new member. Helga was busy assessing him (she was an excellent expert in midwifery and baby care), Rowena of course was full of helpful advice and Godric's dear wife was happy to help Briona make arrangements for the new baby.

We apparated back straight to Salome's and William's home; now that I knew where it was. Poor William Darcy's body was still on the threshold.

Murmuring his condolences Godric removed his cloak and placed it over William's body. I knew he felt a great sadness then; William Darcy had ever been a friend to the Gryffindor clan.

I sighed and indicated that we should find Salome's body. We walked through the village with our heads bowed. Not one of the village homes had been  
spared in the attack. Even now I cannot find it in my heart to speak of the destruction that had destroyed many families and lives.

We found her near the bakery. Her body was a mangled mess of limbs, her hair was limp, her eyes wide open and glassy, her dress ripped…

I gagged at the sight but pressed forward until I was kneeling by her fallen form. I took her in my arms and in those moments I made a sacred promise to  
look after her son.

Again I don't know how long I remained there with her lifeless form against mine. I don't know what possessed me to reach out one last time.

I felt a stirring of nothingness and yet there was a glimmer of something. It is really difficult to explain so I won't go into the particulars here.

Then I saw it a muggle face yellow stained teeth bared, a hand wrapped around a thin gold chain and the chain braking.

I pulled away with a gasp of shock, my eyes snapped opened as I looked around

frantically in the dust.

"Salazar, what is it?"

I kept searching until my hand found it. A locket. A simple gold locket. I don't know how Salome had it; I had thought it had been lost when we were forced to flee our childhood home.

It had belonged to my father's family; the Slytherin's and it was his and my mother (who wore it) most valued treasure.

I held it up against my beating heart as the salty tears continued down my face and into the dirt. And I repeated my oath aloud for the world to hear.

"By the sun and the moon, the earth and sky, or by my life or death I will protect your son as my own. He will not lack for anything."

I would uphold my oath unto death... But little did I know the tragedy had only begun.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's characters.

Summary: Tragedy strikes the Gryffindor clan and Godric goes in rescue of his brother's family.

**Homicide**

A few more years passed without much that I could or rather would comment on. At Hogwarts castle we lulled in relaxed routine. Until one day we woke to find that Godric had mysteriously disappeared during the night.

Only Rowena, who had not developed much more tact during our years together, had the gall to question poor Alieen and then Sir Elric. Both Alieen and Elric seemed sick with worry. Although it was quite obvious that they both knew something was terribly wrong; Rowena was sure she was the only one who had noticed the difference. She didn't stop bothering them until I sent Helga up to stop her haggling and nagging at any cost.

Poor Sir Elric seemed shattered. Even in his aging he had always seemed strong and independent. But on that morning Godric left he seemed suddenly feeble and pale. I caught him often during the day gazing intently at the dull walls and sighing deeply.

Aileen spent her time pacing. She would occasionally paused exchange a glance with Elric and shake her head before resuming the pacing.

It was at this stage I sent for reinforcements. Earven and Saxtyn bounded into the room hugged their adoptive 'aunt' and 'grandfather' and prattled as only small children could.

Elric patted their small dark haired heads but his smile was devoid of his natural warmth.

'

'

'

'

I was working furiously in the healing chambers when both of my boys came clattering down the stares. I turned on my heel as they entered and planted my fists firmly on my hips and glowered at them.

Any student I have ever taught would quail at my scowl. Not my boys. They glanced up at me with large bright eyes their cheeks clearly flushed from excitement.

"This is a healer chamber," I hissed gesturing around.

Earven blinked slowly. "Sorry father," he replied happily.

"Uh ha," four year old Saxtyn agreed with his characteristic bob on his head.

"Uncle Godric is back," Earven continued hastily. Even at a young age he always knew how to grab my attention.

"Uh ha."

"Truly," I murmured pretending to turn back to my work as if I wasn't bothered.

"He has children with him." Earven crept up to my bench and stood on tippee toes so that he could see what I was doing.

"Boys like us!" Saxtyn chimed.

"_Children?" _

All I could wonder was what on earth was Godric doing with children? Or more accurately a child the age that my small boys would class as children? They would be much too young to teach… and this time of year? It was incredibly unheard of.

Striping my gloves off my hands as fluidly as I could, I took my boys' hands and trudged up the stairs to intercept Godric.

Surely enough I stopped Godric just outside his chamber door. I was coming the from the other direction and could clearly see the burden of children in Godric's arms; even without the animated gestures of Earven and Saxtyn.

For one brief nanosecond Godric and my eyes meet. His large almond shape eyes seemed saddened. I watched perplexed as Godric opened the door with a simple gesture and disappeared from view. He was clearly grief stricken over something.

I had always struggled to keep my boys from anything that seemed remotely distressing all their young lives. Dropping down to their level I promptly commanded them to leave and find someone to play with.

Saxtyn pouted. He had always been the more boisterous and difficult of the two. Knowing how much his poor mother's demise grieved me he knew exactly how to manipulate me. A true Slytherin indeed!

Although proficient at getting his own way I was more stubborn and the boys were soon trudging their way back to our apartments to their mother.

I watched them (and I made sure Saxtyn knew I was watching) until they were out of sight before following Godric into his chambers.

"Godric."

Godric started and glanced where I was standing by the door. He moved from the bedside slightly with a sigh. Two young boys lay asleep in the bed. A tuft of dark black messy hair was all I could see of the elder of the two, his arm was thrown across a smaller boy as if to protect him. The second had dark brown hair and I could clearly see the track of tears that had recently slid down his pale pink cheeks. His eyelids were closed so tightly that his nose and cheeks crumpled with wrinkles. He was obviously pretending to be asleep.

They were the age of my boys… six and four…

What was Godric doing with such young children?

Godric stretched and nodded to the open door. He passed me and closed the door behind us softly.

Godric swallowed heavily a few times and uttered one word. "Hearne."

In the moments that followed I froze and felt my heart fluttered in apprehension. His name had not been spoken so boldly in Hogwarts Castle in such a long time. Even then I felt a thrill of fear even though I knew I would never had seen him again.

"Hearne?" I repeated like a dumb parrot.

Godric licked his lips and glanced back at the closed door. "He is dead."

I would have cheered at those three simple words if it wasn't for the lost look of unbelief and grief on Godric's face.

"And that is not the worst of it."

"What do you mean, Godric?" I forced myself to speak through the lump forming in my throat. I hated seeing Godric in distress. "Wait a minute…" The knut had dropped.

"… those children… they're… they're Hearne's?"

I was incredulous at the mere thought of Godric returning to Hogwarts with Hearn's get. (And yes I am now ashamed of those thoughts that instantly crossed my mind.)

Godric nodded his head slowly with a sigh. Another knut dropped.

"You didn't… you didn't kill Hearne, did you?"

Godric snorted. "You would have liked that wouldn't you, Salazar?"

"Godric I…"

Godric held out his palm to demand silence and shook his head. "Don't even think about apologising to me."

Closed my mouth; my eyes started to wander back towards the shut door.

"But to answer your question. No. No I didn't kill my brother."

We were silent for a few moments. For once I had no words to offer Godric and Godric seemed to be happier with the silence.

"He murdered his wife," Godric said after a while wringing his hands.

"Salazar, Hearne murdered Catrona… in front of his children…" From my rough childhood I had heard of such terrible deeds. But Godric with his life of privilege and safety could not imagine such horror.

"What happened? Why are the children here? Catrona's family do not approve of you and your father."

Godric glanced up at me looking very much like he wanted to weep. "Straight after they executed Hearne for killing Catrona with black magic, Catrona's family seized his lands and flung the children out onto the street." Godric shook his head furiously as if he could not believe it. "The cruelty of it all. Loosing their mother via their father, then their father being executed then their own grandfather throwing them out onto the street for them to starve to death."

I had heard of these things happening before. Family abandoning children because one of their parents had used evil tainted magics. But telling this to Godric would be no use to my friend at all. So instead I squeezed his shoulder.

"Barnabas Driscoll will pay for the day he earned my ire," Godric snarled thumping his fists against the door frame. It was only then I noticed Godric's ripped robes and a small amount of blood seeping through.

"Godric you're hurt!"

Godric looked down at himself and shrugged mildly. "So I am."

"What happened?"

Godric smiled thinly and without any of his characteristic mirth. "It was a matter of honour."

I shook my head. "You fought Barnabas."

Lord Driscoll was Hearne's father-in-law and was a known prat to the pure blood families. He was into economics, banking and making profits out of money that did not belong to him originally.

"No," Godric said lightly looking bored, "I fought his champion Maxmillian and won."

"Congratulations," I drawled dryly.

Their had always been bad blood between Godric and Barnabas' champion knights. Beating Maximillian should have been like a childhood dream come true for Godric. If only it had occurred it better circumstances.

If only….

'

'

'

'

Godric sat a glum Rhodderyk on my bench. The child glared up at me from under his shaggy black hair with a definite air. His younger brother Newlin gazed from around Godric's robes looking sheepish.

"Let's see what we have got here shall we?" I asked feeling a bubble of amusement rising to my throat. As I fight to conceal my mirth my glance at Godric tells me he is doing the same.

Rhodderyk being a sharp little tyke noticed and scowled. Before showing me his injured arm. "That is what you get for doing silly deeds, Mister Rhodderyk." I scolded him turning my back to glare at Saxtyn and Earven who truthfully the cause of Rhodderyk's injury. After a few short weeks the four boys had become inseparable and became known for causing mischief around the castle.

"It's Rhoddy," Rhodderyk murmured distaste at his name was clearly etched onto his face. "Besides it was Saxtyn who dared me and Earven who fought me."

Poor Sir Elric had found the mischievous boys in the weaponry room. Rhodderyk was bleeding professedly and my sons trying in vain to stop the bleeding.

"And it felt good to have a sword in my hands…" Rhodderyk explained as I poked at the wound.

"That sword was much too big for you Rhodderyk Jonathan Gryffindor," Godric growled.

"It's RHODDY!"

Godric sniffed in disdain and picked up a vial of potion. He glanced at me lingering before handing it to Rhodderyk. A small smile crept upon my face. Godric had purposefully picked up the foulest potion to stop infections that he possibly could. He knew very well I had a store of more pleasant tasting potions hidden.

"Drink."

Rhodderyk obviously knew that the potion would taste incredibly foul. He pursed his lips tightly and clenched the vial before sculling down his throat.

I have never seen a child turn green so fast in my life!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's character nor do I own the Wonderful World of Harry Potter.

**Extremists**

"Well here we are once again," I cheerful exclaim as I carefully de-robed Rhodderyk. Rhodderyk scowled at me but was too itchy from the poison Ivy he dared not to complain. His small hands were red from where Godric had constantly smacked him to stop him from scratching himself raw. It was yet another escapade gone wrong. And of course Earven had been identified as the lad behind the dare.

When I turned my back briefly Rhodderyk took the opportunity to have a good scratch. I decided to take a different approach to Godric. I dawdled giving Rhodderyk time to scratch only to make himself want to scratch more. By the time I had pity on him Rhodderyk was almost bouncing up and down with frustration.

"It itches," the boy whined looking up at me pathetically.

"Poison Ivy tends to do that," I replied dryly watching Rhodderyk's hand twitch. I took a moment to glance over him critically. Now at thirteen Rhodderyk had the all the charm of his uncle. I daresay the temper of his father at times but I value my life too much to put that into writing – oops! He was built more willowy than his father but I knew his slim body was strong when put to the test. He was lithe and quick on his feet and brave unto stupidity like his uncle, hence his current predicament. And I strongly suspect he was more intelligent than his father.

"Someone had to get the calf out, Magister," Rhodderyk grumbled.

"And you had to be the one who did it."

Rhodderyk nodes and removes his shirt impatiently, silently telling me to start treating the Posion Ivy. I took a moment to look at the red rash and came to the conclusion that Rhodderyk's creamy skin did not react well with the plant.

"Earven wasn't going to."

"You could have used magic."

Rhodderyk glanced at me with deep dark eyes perplexed as if I was being stupid.

"Uncle Godric would tan my hide," Rhodderyk said, "I'm not suppose to use any magic for another week yet…"

Of course I had forgotten. Yet a pervious accident nearly caused Rhodderyk to kill himself with his magic. Godric was sorely tempted to tan Rhodderyk's behind. It was only the fact that Rhodderyk was serevely injured that Godric couldn't so Sir Elric and Godric had banned him from using magic during the Summer months. It was terribly frustrating for a young wizard wanting to spread his wings and explore his talents. But Rhodderyk had stoically abstained and never once (to my knowledge) attempted to use his magic during the ban… My sons however…. Well… they are another story.

I thoughtfully smear Rhodderyk's shoulders with the salve. My patient however wriggly was silent seeming lost in his thoughts. I finished the procedure and Rhodderyk dresses with a hint of a grimace on his face.

"Your uncle and grandfather want to see you in their study," I informed him sternly. Rhodderyk grimaced. "Now?"

"Now."

Rhodderyk winced. We both know he is in trouble. He made his way to the door but he paused and glanced back at me. "Magister do you think there is a Heaven and Hell like the muggles say?"

A thin smile creeps onto my face. "Who knows the mysterious of death."

"If there is such a place I hope my father is in Hell…"

'

'

'

'

It was particular late and I was returning from a late night in the Healers' Quarters. I left an apprentice in charge as I had classes to teach early in the morning. I wasn't taking any notice of where I was going…

It was a scream that alerted my senses. My head lifted up as my heart pounded in my soar chest. Realising I was near the entrance to the castle. I turned on my heel to investigate. The first scream was followed by a second and then a third I ran on. Past the entrance and into the coolness of the night…

The screams stopped the last one reverberated in my ears and still now it haunts my dreams. The air seemed still as if waiting for something to happen. Waiting for me to react…

My footsteps carried me along to a small slope and that is where I found her. If not for her long white gown I would not have seen her in the dark.

"Lumos!"

My breath shuddered in my lungs and I wonder over to where the still body lies. With my foot I turn her over knowing already I am much too late; that this indeed is a corpse.

My breath hitched violently and a sob caught in my throat. Briona…

My wife lay dead at my feet.

"NOOOOO!"

Rhodderyk skids to a halt beside me his face streaming with tears. "Muggles," he murmured shaking his head. "Muggles did this."

"Get back inside," I replied sternly forcing myself to find my voice. Rhodderyk stood still beside me as if he was frozen… as if he could not move.

At first I could not understand his frozen state or the horror that mirror in his eyes. But on reflection I knew what he saw in my wife's dead body. His mother… his mother who had died horribly at the hands of his father at such a young tender age.

'**Godric…'**

'**I'm already coming my friend.'**

"Your uncle is coming go to him," I commanded. Rhodderyk shivered at glanced up at me as if he could see through me. Tears were still streaming down his face unchecked.

I have always professed that Gryffindors are unpredictable and no Gryffindor is so unpredictable like dear Rhoddy. One moment I was glancing at him the next he was running in the direction of the extremist muggles. "Rhoddy…" I started after him but spared a moment to glance at Briona who was still cold and lifeless.

'**Godric… Rhoddy… fly after him…stop him…'**

'**What's Rhoddy doing out here?'**

'**Danger… stop him before he gets his thick Gryffindor head knocked off!'**

As if in reply I heard the screech of an eagle over head. To see an eagle at night would scare any muggle stupid… but the magnificent form was Godric. I shuddered knowing that I had caused Gryffindor's anger to rise and realised too late that Rhodderyk would have a hard time once Godric got his hands – er claws- on him.

I ran after them I watched in trepidation as Gryffindor deliberately landed on Rhodderyk's shoulder. The running lad tumbled over and Godric suddenly returned to his human form pinning a squirming Rhodderyk under him.

"What are you doing!" Godric yelled as I skidded to a halt. Before I can cry at him to stop he struck Rhodderyk with all his might. Rhodderyk gasped in horror as his head snapped around. He raised his shaking hand to his burning cheek and glance to me then back at Godric.

"Answer me when I speak to you…!" Godric thundered. Before he could strike Rhodderyk again I grabbed my friend's wrist.

"Methinks he is in shock, Godric."

Godric glanced at his panting nephew then back at me. "What has happen?" I ruefully watched as Godric got to his feet hurling Rhodderyk up beside him. Rhodderyk was fearfully glancing at Godric then to me.

"Briona's dead," I muttered.

Godric had the decency to look shocked.

"Murdered. I think Rhodderyk saw more than I… I think he's…"

Godric swore and bundled Rhodderyk into his arms. It was amazing how quickly a Gryffindor's ire can melt when one utters the right words. Slytherins on the other hand can smoulder with anger for centuries…

'

'

'

'

Earven and Saxtyn had cried for hours after hearing the sad news of loosing Briona. All that I'm willing to say on this matter is that the funeral was a simple affair and Hogwarts Castle had been changed forever.


	16. Chapter 16

Summary: Here begins the trouble between muggles and Lord Salazar. Personalities clash and the beginning of the end of the Hogwarts dream becomes a reality for our hero.

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works.

_**Lord Standforde**_

The beginning of the end of my career at Hogwarts started with the issue of muggle born wizards and witches. Or to be more precise; the issue whether or not muggle born wizards should be permitted on Hogwarts grounds. I must say many hours were spent discussing this very issue. Some may have been given the impression I detested the thought of muggle blood entering the school. History I am aware does not view me too kindly. But I had my reasons for being worried and cautious over the admittance of muggle born apprentices.

Godric, with his notions of honour, was determined that any with magical ability should be taught. He believed leaving the youngsters alone would threaten them. Rowena agreed with him determined that she should make a name for herself in both the magical and non magical worlds. My concern was however, what danger we put ourselves in by revealing our world and giving access to our world to those who may oppose us. Furthermore, a child may have a chance in life if the parents did not notice their child's gifts. But to blatantly inform parents? Godric has no concept that some parents would kill their own flesh and blood; or worse disinherit them. There is always the chance the parents would find out about the child; but why should we act as agents to point out the existence of magic?

Magic has become a dirty word in society. Already outcast for our 'eccentric' behaviour we are now the enemies of the muggle world.

Helga Hufflepuff was a true cornerstone for Hogwarts in the days of debate of who should and should not be admitted to Hogwarts. Mild and meek she never joined in our arguments. She listened – truly listened with an unbiased ear to both sides of the story. She had away of participating in debates of using arguments for both for and against and she only made suggestions never demands. For this I can truly say dear Helga was a much better person than I. And I loved her for it.

Love? I hear you ask. There was no grand love story between Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin!

Ah but there were feelings. Helga, the dear compassionate soul that she is looked after my children in my days of distress of loosing their mother. I could not identify my feelings of admiration and companionship as love. If I had back then, maybe things would have turned out differently.

In the end however, I conceded to Godric that it was only fair that muggle borns should have access to magical education. However I would not have them in my cohort. I would not risk my house to spies from the outside. My dream meant too much to me for that. Godric and the others may risk enemy penetration of Hogwarts but I certainly was determined to make the school the safest place for my apprentices.

One of the first muggle borns to be invited to Hogwarts was Beacen Standforde, the son of Lord Flinn Standforde the Lord Chancellor and confident to the King. Poor wretched boy. If only Godric had not sent that letter to Lord Standforde.

It was well known that his lordship did not have fond feelings for his 'odd' child, the only son of his third wife. At first I presumed that there must have been something wrong with Beacen to have caused such public ire from his father. But I was soon to learn the fault lay not with him.

Dear Hufflepuff had spent many hours sitting and waiting on Lord Standforde into letting Beacen come to Hogwarts. Being such an important and imposing figure, Lord Standforde was extremely agitated and dead set against letting Beacen attend.

When Helga set me a letter by owl (it was becoming a craze in the wizarding world), she was certain the boy's life was in peril. She unlike Godric knew it would not take much prompting for Lord Standforde to publicly denounce and execute his young son. Due to her distress and unnecessary feelings of inadequacy I jumped at the opportunity to help her.

I sort the place Helga was staying at as soon as I reached London and then we both marched over to Lord Standforde's residents ready to convince him and on Helga's part ready to kidnap the boy.

We reached the gates before midday and was greeted by Lord Standforde at his front door. My heart sank as Helga whispered to me the man's identity as we crossed the courtyard. He was such a surly grim character that I immediately thought the worst and assumed Beacen was dead.

"Lord Slytherin," Lord Standforde called out to us when we were not ten paces from where he stood at the door. "Lady Hufflepuff…"

I caught my eyebrows from rising. I was never called 'Lord' outside of Hogwarts castle. Only my students called me Lord Magister and only when they were in quite a bit of trouble, which being students of magic was quite often. I never expected his prestigious lord to address one such as I with a title of dignity.

"I told him you were the son of a Duke in Normandy," Helga whispered frantically. "He is so much more agreeable when he thinks he is talking to one of noble birth."

Again my eyebrows were in danger from disappearing under my fringe. I caught myself and nodded my head regally in Lord Standforde's direction and allowed myself to blink slowly and gaze about as if I was assessing Lord Standforde's estate. I must say I was surprised at Helga's little 'white' lie on my behalf.

Standforde however stepped forward in a hurried manner which indicated that he was over with pleasantries. "Lord Slytherin," he repeated this time I caught the sneer in his tone. "I am Lord Flinn Stanforde, the Lord High Chancellor, Royal advisor, the…"

"I know who you are milord," I sneered back letting the ice tones creep through. "Trust me I am not interested in your titles."

Standforde stood back glowering at me with large hateful eyes. He looked like he had been struck as if no one had ever dared to stand up to him before. Knowing Helga she would have brilliantly played her role as a comforter and adviser. I was none of these things. I was here to plainly force him into making a decision.

Beside me I could hear Helga's hitched breath. Without looking behind myself I knew she was blushing with embarrassment.

"Yes… well…" Lord Standforde stuttered, still somewhat dazed by my attitude. "My son. Take him. Teach him. Don't send him back unless I call for him."

They were the only words he had for us. He abruptly turned on his heal and stormed back inside leaving us alone in the dusty courtyard.

However only seconds later a young boy appeared the flesh of his cheeks were crimson with embarrassment and shame. I knew at once this was the famous Beacen Standforde.

In his right hand he carried a small bag of possessions. Much smaller than I expected from the son of a lord. Helga later shared with me that Beacen had little choice what he could take with him. His father would not let him have anything that 'belonged to him'. The only concession was a few pair of clean shirts and breeches. Helga had to find more supplies once we had reached Hogwarts. This caused quite a stir amongst the other apprentices that the Lord Chancellor sent his son to us as a pauper.

I don't know much about the persona of Beacen Standforde. Helga took him in as one of her apprentices. But he was rather unhappy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The older apprentices scorned him as the 'Standforde Bastard'. Being the child of a third wife was not the most honourable position to find oneself in. Especially considering Lord Standforde had 'divorced' his second wife in doing so. Furthermore being the unloved, unwanted and shamed son made Beacen's position low in the ranks of the students. The younger apprentices would not even speak with him afraid that the coldness of their elders would be attached to them as well.

But there is one thing I can say in Beacen's favour. He was a good student. Whether because he had no companions or because he was studious, he became known for his studies. He would often be seen in the libraries studying for hours and hours on end. I can admire him for making the best of a dreadful set of circumstances.


	17. Chapter 17

Summary: The demon creature 'Prince of Darkness' makes a feature. And death comes to Hogwarts once more…

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works.

**Darkness**

"And no running in the corridors," I concluded glancing down at my wayward nephew. Saxtyn smiled winningly showing his straight white teeth and glanced to his best friend Newlin Gryffindor, Godric's youngest nephew.

"Of course not, uncle," Saxtyn replied innocently in a tone that he hoped would mask his eagerness for more trouble. I refused to be irked and battled to keep my eyebrows from lifting up into my fringe. Turning steadily on my heel I merely say, "Then you two may leave."

Without glancing back I know they had bob their heads in acquiescence and calmly wondered away as if they had not been given a stern talking to but Hogwarts must feared Healer.

Saxtyn and Newlin were twelve that morning and how I remember that time well. I had mentally noted to tell Godric of our nephew's no doubt intent for trouble… but I never was able to forewarn him of the tragedy that was to come our way.

Looking back on that seemingly happy morn and the grief and anger that followed; I had placed too much blame on Godric's shoulders. It was Godric who had accepted Saxtyn into his cohort and I was well pleased with my nephew's progress and vibrant spirit that flourished under Godric's tuition. It was Godric who had taught his youngsters how to apparate during the summer. But it was I who was Saxtyn's guardian.

'

'

'

"FATHER!" I barely had time to glance up from my boiling potion I was showing the older apprentices when Earven burst through the classroom door. It was only the sheer panic look on his pale face that stopped me from snapping at him. Instead I motioned him with my hand to be still and finished giving the instructions to the small group of my apprentices.

Without a curt nod of my head Earven turned left the classroom and waited, without any patience for me as I stopped by an overzealous students' cauldron.

"Can't even keep a proper eye on your brat of a cousin…"

I stopped as I heard the cold drawl outside my classroom.

"Close your mouth d'Malfreds or I shall close if for you," Earven replied testily. I chuckled mentally inside my head. Oscar d'Malfreds the son of Tarrance and Odelle had very little love of myself as an Uncle and Earven as his cousin. The feeling was mutual; I only allowed him access into my cohort so I could watch the little snake's every move.

Schooling my expression to a neutral mask I swiftly opened the door, making Earven jump off the wall where he was lounging and Oscar regard me coldly through narrowed eyes. "Back to class Oscar," I commanded coldly without gracing my other nephew with a glance.

"Sir," he snidely acknowledged me and left the scene; Earven watched him leave with the look of intense dislike.

But my son's attention did not remain very long on his cousin. His head snapped back to regard me his eyes calculating his words before he spoke. Obviously he knew of what he had to say would anger me. "Speak," I commanded softly knowing that being direct would loosen Earven's tongue.

"Newlin and Saxtyn have left the grounds," Earven blurted. I raised my eyebrows. This was not an unusual occurrence with those rascally boys. It certainly would not have been enough to cause Earven to interrupt my senior apprentices.

"Magister Gryffindor was told of their departure by Rhoddy, who in turn is sure they are going after that horrid demon creature from Wales that Sir Elric was talking about."

I rolled my eyes. Old Sir Elric was always telling the boys stories. I knew this one well. The Prince of Darkness as Sir Elric calls him is a immortal creature that hold more dread in the magical community than dementors. There is no known charm for defence and produce a patronus would only mean certain destruction as this is what the demon lusts after.

It took a few moments of realisation of what Earven had just told me. Then in a whirlwind of decision I jumped from my place and ran to the entrance hall where Godric was already waiting for me. As I ran I heard Earven's footfalls behind me… I knew he wanted to come but I had made up my mind.

Godric acknowledged me with a grim nod and turned to Rhoddy with whom he apparently had been arguing with. "But Uncle, I'm almost sixteen…"

"Aye, you've reminded me of this fact serval times, boy. Now go to your grandfather as I have commanded and stay with him until I return and call for you," Godric replied stoically.

"But Newlin…"

"I will tan Newlin's hind all the way back to Hogwarts," Godric sniffed. "But otherwise he shall return unharmed."

Rhoddy looked to me as if hoping I would say something to help him convince his uncle. Granted he did look pathetic. "It would be best to do as your uncle wishes, Rhodderyk Gryffindor."

Rhoddy mumbled dejectedly and pointedly gazed at Earven.

"And Earven would be more than happy to accompany you to your grandfather."

I could see Earven was struggling not to raise his eyebrows. He bowed his head and nodded meekly and took the crook of Rhodderyk's arm leading him away.

"He's a good lad, Godric," I murmured watching Godric staring at his nephew's slumped form.

"That's what worries me," Godric replied grimly shifting from one side to another. "Shall we?"

'

'

'

We had been searching for what had seemed like hours for the two boys. My voice was coarse in my throat and yet I had not given up hope. The disappearance of the boys only fuelled Godric's anger. I could see him even at the fifty paces that separated us that he was already blaming himself for the boy's latest escapade. In my secret heart I was also beginning to place the blame on his shoulders. Ashamed I turned my face away I could not bare the guilt if Gryffindor should see.

We had been walking in the Forbidden Forest, whose boarders were much larger in those days, looking for any signs. About twenty minutes later I found the first sign a thin strip of brown cloth. Evidently from an apprentice's robe. Godric and I exchanged exasperated looks and searched harder.

A muddied footprint was found next, then some disturbed mud, broken branches and more cloth. We were on the right track.

We ran from there something already telling us the grave danger our nephews were in. A moment later a shrill shriek confirmed our suspicions. Understand now this shriek was not made by any human voice. It was a terrible sound; most people would gnash their teeth together full of fear if they ever heard the sound. Godric described the sound later as the 'laugh of evil.' The only word that could explain it: evil.

Whoever designed wizarding clothes had never thought of the possibility of running. By the time we reached the place of the shriek I was muddied and tied up in my own cloak.

The first boy I saw was Newlin lying face down unconscious in the mud. Saxtyn stood over him his wand outstretched and his face etched in a look of horror at what he had found.

They had found him…

The creature unfurled great black wings. Any could mistake it for a vampire but would soon change their theory as they caught sight of its wings, which were covered with large black glistening feathers that poked out in odd angles. If you sniffed the air you would be overcome by the distinct odour of blood and decay. No other creature can equal its effect.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Instead of joy at the beautiful sight of my nephew's falcon patronus I only felt dismay.

The falcon cried as it swept forward in a silver rush of air. It landed on Saxtyn's shoulder and tilted its curious face to gaze at the dark creature before them as if it didn't know what to do.

In the light of the patronus the creature became even more visible to the eye. It looked so much like a man but it stood over seven feet and it wore a large brown cloak. Its skin was murky green – grey; the colour of death and decay.

The creature also regarded the falcon patronus and sneered showing the long rows of fangs. But otherwise it made no attempt to attack.

I stepped forward in a rush grabbed Saxtyn's shoulder. For a moment we locked eyes his betraying his fear and agitation whether caused by the creature or myself I would never know.

This movement was enough to trigger the patronus' decision to attack. I yelled and made a futile leap for it. But patronuses have very little substance to the human hand and I missed.

The creature remained still and dispassionate…

Then the creature lifted up his hand or claw like talons and brought the falcon down. The proud patronus stilled in the air with a shrill cry and then flopped ungracefully to the ground in a twisted mess of feathers. Where it remained motionless.

I caught Saxtyn as he collapsed into my arms unconscious. I knew exactly what was happening. The creature was attacking Saxtyn through his patronus.

I did the only thing I could in a situation like this. I lifted my hands and summoned a great wind and element that I found easy to manipulate.

Godric needed no instructions he had ran forward and collected Newlin's fallen form and nodded to me.

The creature was blocked off from attacking us by the wind. We had little time. And so we apparated back home.


	18. Chapter 18

Summary: Salazar blames Godric for the outcome of Newlin and Saxtyn's adventure. Will this be the end of their friendship?

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works.

**Gone**

Even before we had apparted back to Hogwarts I knew the boy's fates had been sealed. But I refused in those moments to acknowledge the fact. I ignored the stares and the whispers of the apprentices as Godric and myself made our way back to my chambers with our grievously ill nephews.

Rhodderyk and Earven must have already heard the news for they were waiting for us by my chamber door with a grim looking Sir Elric. I dipped my head in greeting to the now aging lord who opened the door and escorted us both in.

Wordlessly we lay Newlin and Saxtyn side by side on my bed. For the first time I looked upon Newlin's face, which was grey. He was shaking slightly whimpering and tossing slightly; Saxtyn I realised had the same reaction.

The memory from many years back flitted through my mind and I remembered the potion of immortality. I went to the wardrobe and pulled out the box in which I had hidden my invention with all the scrolls I had written down the instructions. I unlocked all the charms I had set up around it.

"What is that?" Godric asked me suspiciously glancing first to his nephew then to me. He knew then nothing could save Newlin from the jaws of death. It made me angry that he could be so calm; so accepting; so strong.

"Our only hope," I snapped taking two random flasks that I always had in supply in my chambers.

"Salazar," Sir Elric said softly laying a hand on my shoulders, "there is nothing you can do."

"No." Rhodderyk let out a choked sob and ran to his brother wrapping his arms around his unconscious form as hacking cries consume him. "Not my brother." Earven stood mute and pale in the corner refusing to let his emotion show.

"Rhoddy…" Godric touched the back of his eldest nephew with such tender calmness that it multiplied my anger.

"My discovery might help," I insisted harshly as I continued to poor.

"Please," Rhodderyk glanced up at Godric with large pleading eyes. "Please do something."

Rhodderyk's pleading eyes must have softened both Godric and Sir Elric for Godric asked, "What is it?"

"An antidote," I snapped.

"Yes but what kind of antidote."

"Immortality," Earven answered in a shaking voice.

Godric head snapped up and stepped in front of Newlin. "Don't go anywhere near my nephew with that!"

"Uncle please!" Rhodderyk grabbed onto Godric's robes and wept unashamedly. "Do something."

Godric turned to him sadly and shook his head. "I cannot for I won't risk greater harm than death upon him."

"Please!"

"Hush, Rhoddy, milad," Sir Elric shushed pulling Rhodderyk to his feet. "In your grief you are not thinking straight." At this the old man glared at me. "You should never had made such as suggestion, Salazar."

"FINE!" I snapped. "Newlin may die but I shalt let Saxtyn die."

"FATHER!" Earven ran to me and grabbed the crook of my arm in a light touch. "You don't know what you do!" I flung him off and fell with a dull thud on the ground. "Magister Gryffindor do something!" Earven cried.

Godric nodded grimly and being more inclined to fight than myself grabbed both the goblets and smashed them both before throwing the bottle of potion out the window. I roared and grabbed at him but in moments he had me pinned to the wall. "Look at them." He nodded in our nephews' direction. "Would you condemn them to be like that for all eternity?"

I bowed my head slightly. "There was a chance… and now there is no hope…"

"There was never any to start with Salazar."

How I hated the Gryffindors in those moments…

But my hate was soon diverted into grief as only seconds later Newlin breathed his last with his brother and uncle at his side, his grandfather looking on; and then as tradition with the boys Saxtyn followed him into death.

"Get out!" my cold hard voice woke me from the void. Godric looked at me quizzical and nodded as if understanding my need to be alone. Sir Elric took Rhodderyk's shoulders and ushered him from the room promising him a dreamless sleep for the night. Godric closed Newlin's eyes and that was when I saw his first tears which he refused to shed. He borrowed a sheet and covered his nephew's lifeless face and picked the cooling corpse into his arms. He turned cradling his dead boy in his embrace and tears swirling in his eyes. "It was for the best, my friend," he said.

"GET OUT!" I grabbed the closest object and threw it at him. But I aimed poorly in my anger and missed.

'

'

'

Both of the boys were buried near the fringes of the Forbidden Forest a place that they enjoyed many hours of rule breaking or bending. I had not spoken much to any since the day they had passed from the plain of the living but I found myself attending their funeral service anyway.

Earven stood by my left hand side sniffling throughout the whole ordeal of burying his cousin who he had seen as his little brother.

It didn't seem real at the time. I remembered as I was standing there the oath I had taken when I had discovered Salome's body. And I felt awful and blamed myself for break that oath. But most of all I blamed Godric.

I believe I had made my mind up a few days ago about my fate. For me Hogwarts was over. Godric and I had done nothing but argue about the half bloods, the threat had continued to grow and I perceived the spies amongst us; but Godric would not see sense. Now I blamed him for the death of my nephew whom I loved as my own child. Too much now lay between us.

I don't know how long Godric stood by my side as I refused to leave the fresh mounds of dirt. But finally I turned on him and I said, "For this I blame you."

Words are such terrible weapons. I could not take them back and I knew they would haunt Godric until the day he died. To cause such hurt and pain on Godric a man who befriended me when all others scorned me was such a horrible sin.

Godric lifted his head and regarded me coolly. "I know," he replied. "I know."

"They were your appetencies you should have stopped them." I had continued despite the fact I knew how much I was hurting him.

"I know," Godric said.

"It was your responsibility."

"I know."

"And you failed both them and me."

"I know."

He infuriated me. I accused him of killing my nephew and all he did was calmly reply I know.

"And I'm leaving."

Godric nodded his head and sighed heavily. "Earven told me this morning. I wish there was something I could say to dissuade you."

It was my turn to remain silent and I looked over the mounds of dirt once more thinking of Saxtyn who lay their lifeless.

"There is a small house not far from here. It is yours."

Godric always had the ability to surprise me. I had said some awful things to him and

yet he repaid me with his kindness.

"Why?"

Again his answer surprised me.

"No matter what, Salazar Slytherin," he said. "I will always be a friend."

Oh, how his words assailed me with guilt!


	19. Chapter 19

Summary: Angry at Helga's lover the muggle Alyin Salazar finds himself in a sticky situation in London and as the fates would have: finds himself a new mysterious apprentice.

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works. And yes I shamelessly plagiarised my own work from History – Retold.

**Apprentice**

Godric, as usual, was as good as his word. He often sent me letters, gifts and provisions as well as allowing my son to visit me anytime I wished. He found a temporary wizard to take my place and as soon as Earven was old enough he was allowed to take his place as Head of Slytherin house. Dear Godric even went as far as to finding a way in which students that pleased me could enter my house without me being their.

Brilliant idea, if I may say so. He took one of his wizarding hats that he only wore on special occasions if Rowena forced him to and took a part of each of our minds. The hat was charmed to see into prospective students' heads and sort them into the houses. Thus the 'Sorting Hat' was born and the 'Sorting Ceremony' tradition began.

Now it came to pass that Helga found the 'love of her life.' Now I use this term lightly as Master Alyin the Muggle was not the man whom Helga thought him to be. I knew of their love affair and if I was honest I would say I was jealous.

Unfortunately Helga felt obliged not to tell Muggle Alyin of her witch status. When he found out he promptly left her and travelled to London. I assumed the worst and followed him.

As I expected he planned to inform the Bishop in London about Hogwarts. Now even though I had left and even though I knew I could never return to her hallowed halls I could not allow Helga to remain in danger or my dream to crumble further.

So I intercepted Alyin's letters of betrayal and wrote back to him as the Bishop. It was quite simple to lure him to a secluded spot and curse him into tomorrow. Unfortunately I must have seemed suspicious to some nosy muggle and I was, dare I say it, caught with my pants down so to speak.

Instead of fleeing I stood my ground. A simple burning at the stake never hurt anyone. Flame Freezing Charms are easy to conjure on will even without my wand, which frustratingly had been confiscated.

So this is how I found myself tied to a stake ready to been burned alive.

My execution however did not go as planned. The poor muggles were scared out of their wits when a strange boy apparated right in the middle of the platform. How they screamed. Truly unbelievable! The emerald eyed boy seemed just as shocked as I by their reactions and a tad bit sheepish. There was nothing extraordinarily scary about him.

But what completely surprised me was the presence of yet more wizards targeting him for a kill. To give him credit he handled himself quite well until we were both cornered.

Of course this was when Rowena Ravenclaw has to turn up and save the day. Then she leaves me to take this boy home with me to teach him!

'

'

'

'

I leaned back and watched as 'Harolde' silently collected our breakfast plates and pans wordlessly, without myself indicating t his was his chore to complete. He worked with quick efficient movements his face set to a neutral mask.

"You're not afraid of work are you boy," I stated running my eyes over my floors which he had swept clean while I still lay abed sleeping. Harolde turned to look at me submerging his hands into the cleaning water. He withdrew them quickly as he caught my smirk at his drenched sleeves.

"I suppose not," he replied meekly.

"I find that pleasing, boy… Too many wizarding lads your age would recoil at the very thought of work. _Young people today!_ They want everything handed to them on a silver platter…Not like you, ha boy?"  
"I suppose not…" he returned with the same few words he had a habit of answering all my questions with.

"Ambition is a fine trait – if only more Slytherin apprentices had your dedication to hard work! For ambition is completely wasted – worthless in fact if you are not willing to work and toil…"

I took my time to study Harolde's slight sneer at the word 'Slytherin', he seemed to have a special dislike for the name. But he had not said anything about hating Slytherin's since I had 'disciplined' him on the first day. How his cheeks must have stung.

"I'm not ambitious…" Harolde protested finally.  
"You _could_ have been a great Slytherin, boy," I insisted.  
Harry sniffed. "I'm a Gryffindor."  
My eyes never left his face, I saw a trace of discomfort and doubt. I leant forward across the table and Harolde consciously step forward. I frowned slightly but announced anyway , "I _know_ what Godric's Sorting Hat told you… You could have been one of _mine_ – won me glory in a time of great turmoil…but your heart chose otherwise and you're Godric's…." Salazar frowned deepened as he added, "And perhaps that is a good thing…"

Harolde didn't have an answer for me. He shrugged his shoulders and seemed surprised by my remark. I learnt later that from where he was from the 'reading' of minds and understanding content of thoughts was not as well developed as I would have hoped.

Needless to say the deficiency with his education, mostly accessing mindsets, his own magical core and certainly wandless arts. He was an apt pupil mostly considerate and charming company.

'

'

'

Word travels quickly in the wizarding world. Presently Helga returned to my cottage to meet this new apprentice she had heard about and to talk…

Hufflepuff raised her eyebrows slowly at me as I dismissed Harolde to chores outside in the cold. "You have not changed at all Salazar Slytherin," she state slowly, but to jovial to worry about such matters she abruptly changed the subject back to my apprentice. "Is he as powerful as Rowena thinks…?"  
"So she told you about him…"  
"Well his appearance was something of note." Hufflepuff glanced at me knowingly.  
"Well physically he is stronger than he looks, emotionally, spiritually and mentally he is vulnerable and magically… he has the capacity to surpass all of Rowena's expectations."  
"Meaning he _could_ beat Godric or yourself in a duel," she suggested playfully. I ruefully considered this and determined once I finished with him her statement would probably be true. For some reason the prospect of an apprentice with so much power didn't seem frightening to me.

"If he was trained correctly…ARAGH!" I threw his hands up in the air thinking about the gaps in his education, "The things they are not teaching at our school…he didn't_ even_ know how to access his power!"

"Surely not!" Helga was horrified, the teaching the apprentice how to access their own power was one of the foremost magics taught to new apprentices – something that we all had agreed on.

"Is he…is he in danger…?" Helga hesitated, for what other reason would someone like Harolde be thrust into our hands by a quirk of fate? Rowena had stressed to me that I had been the most appropriate teacher for him. A point Godric had apparently contested strongly but had given up after a few hours of debate with the clever Ravenclaw. Rowena had a way of knowing more than she should. Never argue with Ravenclaw.

"Plenty of danger…where would a Gryffindor be without danger?" I replied with a laugh.  
"Indeed," Helga replied, for she knew of Gryffindor's odd ability to attract danger, "Is our world…"  
"Our world in that age hangs on that youngster's shoulders…"  
Helga frowned and chewed her bottom lip, something that she only did when she was deeply troubled. "But he his brave…"  
"…and clever…and cunning…and loyal…and honourable…and…"

"Slytherin what's_ bothering_ you?" Helga asked looking into my eyes a look that I had never been able to resist. She knew that something else that had been revealed to me was bothering me greatly.  
"And he _hates_ me…" I finished lamely feeling nothing but a small whining child.  
"I am sure that is not true!" Helga replied quickly.  
I smiled wryly. "I cannot blame him… cannot find fault with that…" I hid my face in my hands.

"He is the boy I would have _wanted_ Saxtyn to grow into…" I gave a small gasp much to my chargin, "And he hates me… and the wizarding world hates and _abhors_ my name. And they are right."

"No…no it cannot be…"

"Helga I _saw_ what a Slytherin has done in the future through him. How can I go on when this traitor will destroy everything I hold dear…the name of Slytherin has only done ill to our precious community!"  
"Oh dear Salazar, you _know_ that knowledge is problematic…knowledge is socially and culturally constructed. You deny your descendants for what they will do…"

I gave a cry of fury…if only she had seen…she too will hate me for what I brought to our world.

"…I don't hate you… nor will I ever…"

I gazed into the eyes of the woman who had been with me throughout the darkest of his days, despite her own private grief. A woman who had fished me out of hell's belly and brought me back to life, who had given me strength with her quiet courage. A woman I loved, even though it felt like a betrayal to my late wife. How I had loved her, how I still loved her! It was her heart that outshone all exterior forces, a heart of pure, undying beauty.

"Alyin doesn't know what he is missing," I commented and I watched the pain echo in Helga's eyes as her lover's name was mentioned. And then I knew why she had come to me. "You're better off without him, dear heart…you and your child will be happier without him in the long run… you'll see…"

Helga glanced up at me horrified. "You know…" Her small hands clapped over her mouth partially trying not to show her shame and guilt.  
"Please don't tell Rowena…what will she_ think_ of me…I need to think about what to do with it."  
"Keep it." Helga glanced up into my face his eyes shone with an earnest. "Give your child the love and the mother it deserves."  
"But it'll be a bastard…"  
"But you'll be its mother."  
"But Rowena…"  
"If I know, Helga, Rowena _already_ does and I daresay even Gryffindor will figure it out."  
Helga nearly swooned in embarrassment. "What will they think of me…a mother to a_ bastard_ child…"  
"I cannot tell you what they will think, Helga," I said trying to find a comforting tone in my voice. "But I don't care."

Helga smiled sadly up at me…and I reached forward, my finger lightly tracing the curve down to her chin, and then pressed his lips lightly to hers. I could taste the salt of tears as they started to drip down her white cheeks.

"…_but I don't care…"_


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works. **And yes I shamelessly plagiarised my own work from History – Retold. So readers such as the lovely JAM and Lady Spellweaver shhh... don't tell what happens**

On with the first of my 'Harolde' chapters...

**Apprentice **

**  
**

Godric, as usual, was as good as his word. He often sent me letters, gifts and provisions as well as allowing my son to visit me anytime I wished. He found a temporary wizard to take my place and as soon as Earven was old enough he was allowed to take his place as Head of Slytherin house. Dear Godric even went as far as to finding a way in which students that pleased me could enter my house without me being their.

Brilliant idea, if I may say so. He took one of his wizarding hats that he only wore on special occasions if Rowena forced him to and took a part of each of our minds. The hat was charmed to see into prospective students' heads and sort them into the houses. Thus the 'Sorting Hat' was born and the 'Sorting Ceremony' tradition began.

Now it came to pass that Helga found the 'love of her life.' Now I use this term lightly as Master Alyin the Muggle was not the man whom Helga thought him to be. I knew of their love affair and if I was honest I would say I was jealous.

Unfortunately Helga felt obliged not to tell Muggle Alyin of her witch status. When he found out he promptly left her and travelled to London. I assumed the worst and followed him. 

As I expected he planned to inform the Bishop in London about Hogwarts. Now even though I had left and even though I knew I could never return to her hallowed halls I could not allow Helga to remain in danger or my dream to crumble further.

So I intercepted Alyin's letters of betrayal and wrote back to him as the Bishop. It was quite simple to lure him to a secluded spot and curse him into tomorrow. Unfortunately I must have seemed suspicious to some nosy muggle and I was, dare I say it, caught with my pants down so to speak.

Instead of fleeing, I stood my ground. A simple burning at the stake never hurt anyone. Flame Freezing Charms are easy to conjure on will even without my wand, which frustratingly had been confiscated.

So this is how I found myself tied to a stake ready to been burned alive.

My execution however did not go as planned. The poor muggles were scared out of their wits when a strange boy apparated right in the middle of the platform. How they screamed. Truly unbelievable! The emerald eyed boy seemed just as shocked as I by their reactions and a tad bit sheepish. There was nothing extraordinarily scary about him.

But what completely surprised me was the presence of yet more wizards targeting him for a kill. To give him credit he handled himself quite well until we were both cornered.

Of course this was when Rowena Ravenclaw has to turn up and save the day. Then she leaves me to take this boy home with me to teach him!

I leaned back and watched as 'Harolde' silently collected our breakfast plates and pans wordlessly, without myself indicating t his was his chore to complete. He worked with quick efficient movements his face set to a neutral mask.

"You're not afraid of work are you boy," I stated running my eyes over my floors which he had swept clean while I still lay abed sleeping. Harolde turned to look at me submerging his hands into the cleaning water. He withdrew them quickly as he caught my smirk at his drenched sleeves.

"I suppose not," he replied meekly.

"I find that pleasing, boy… Too many wizarding lads your age would recoil at the very thought of work. Young people today! They want everything handed to them on a silver platter…Not like you, ha boy?"

"I suppose not…" he returned with the same few words he had a habit of answering all my questions with.

"Ambition is a fine trait – if only more Slytherin apprentices had your dedication to hard work! For ambition is completely wasted – worthless in fact if you are not willing to work and toil…"

I took my time to study Harolde's slight sneer at the word 'Slytherin', he seemed to have a special dislike for the name. But he had not said anything about hating Slytherin's since I had 'disciplined' him on the first day. How his cheeks must have stung.

"I'm not ambitious…" Harolde protested finally.

"You could have been a great Slytherin, boy," I insisted.

Harry sniffed. "I'm a Gryffindor."

My eyes never left his face, I saw a trace of discomfort and doubt. I leant forward across the table and Harolde consciously step forward. I frowned slightly but announced anyway , "I know what Godric's Sorting Hat told you… You could have been one of mine – won me glory in a time of great turmoil…but your heart chose otherwise and you're Godric's…." Salazar frowned deepened as he added, "And perhaps that is a good thing…"

Harolde didn't have an answer for me. He shrugged his shoulders and seemed surprised by my remark. I learnt later that from where he was from the 'reading' of minds and understanding content of thoughts was not as well developed as I would have hoped.

Needless to say the deficiency with his education, mostly accessing mindsets, his own magical core and certainly wandless arts. He was an apt pupil mostly considerate and charming company.

Word travels quickly in the wizarding world. Presently Helga returned to my cottage to meet this new apprentice she had heard about and to talk…

Hufflepuff raised her eyebrows slowly at me as I dismissed Harolde to chores outside in the cold. "You have not changed at all Salazar Slytherin," she state slowly, but to jovial to worry about such matters she abruptly changed the subject back to my apprentice. "Is he as powerful as Rowena thinks…?"  
"So she told you about him…"  
"Well his appearance was something of note." Hufflepuff glanced at me knowingly.

"Well physically he is stronger than he looks, emotionally, spiritually and mentally he is vulnerable and magically… he has the capacity to surpass all of Rowena's expectations."  
"Meaning he could beat Godric or yourself in a duel," she suggested playfully.

I ruefully considered this and determined once I finished with him her statement would probably be true. For some reason the prospect of an apprentice with so much power didn't seem frightening to me.

"If he was trained correctly…ARAGH!" I threw his hands up in the air thinking about the gaps in his education, "The things they are not teaching at our school…he didn't even know how to access his power!"

"Surely not!" Helga was horrified, the teaching the apprentice how to access their own power was one of the foremost magics taught to new apprentices – something that we all had agreed on.

"Is he…is he in danger…?" Helga hesitated, for what other reason would someone like Harolde be thrust into our hands by a quirk of fate? Rowena had stressed to me that I had been the most appropriate teacher for him. A point Godric had apparently contested strongly but had given up after a few hours of debate with the clever Ravenclaw. Rowena had a way of knowing more than she should. Never argue with Ravenclaw.

"Plenty of danger…where would a Gryffindor be without danger?" I replied with a laugh.

"Indeed," Helga replied, for she knew of Gryffindor's odd ability to attract danger, "Is our world…" 

"Our world in that age hangs on that youngster's shoulders…"

Helga frowned and chewed her bottom lip, something that she only did when she was deeply troubled. "But he his brave…"

"…and clever…and cunning…and loyal…and honourable…and…"

"Slytherin what's bothering you?" Helga asked looking into my eyes a look that I had never been able to resist. She knew that something else that had been revealed to me was bothering me greatly.

"And he hates me…" I finished lamely feeling nothing but a small whining child. 

"I am sure that is not true!" Helga replied quickly. 

I smiled wryly. "I cannot blame him… cannot find fault with that…" I hid my face in my hands.

"He is the boy I would have wanted Saxtyn to grow into…" I gave a small gasp much to my chargin, "And he hates me… and the wizarding world hates and abhors my name. And they are right."

"No…no it cannot be…"

"Helga I saw what a Slytherin has done through his memories. How can I go on when this traitor will destroy everything I hold dear…the name of Slytherin has only done ill to our precious community!"

"Oh dear Salazar, you know that knowledge is problematic…knowledge is socially and culturally constructed. You deny your descendants for what they will do…"

I gave a cry of fury…if only she had seen…she too will hate me for what I brought to our world.

"…I don't hate you… nor will I ever…"

I gazed into the eyes of the woman who had been with me throughout the darkest of his days, despite her own private grief. A woman who had fished me out of hell's belly and brought me back to life, who had given me strength with her quiet courage. A woman I loved, even though it felt like a betrayal to my late wife. How I had loved her, how I still loved her! It was her heart that outshone all exterior forces, a heart of pure, undying beauty.

"Alyin doesn't know what he is missing," I commented and I watched the pain echo in Helga's eyes as her lover's name was mentioned. And then I knew why she had come to me. "You're better off without him, dear heart…you and your child will be happier without him in the long run… you'll see…"

Helga glanced up at me horrified. "You know…" Her small hands clapped over her mouth partially trying not to show her shame and guilt.

"Please don't tell Rowena…what will she think of me…I need to think about what to do with it."

"Keep it." Helga glanced up into my face his eyes shone with an earnest. "Give your child the love and the mother it deserves."

"But it'll be a bastard…"

"But you'll be its mother."

"But Rowena…"

"If I know, Helga, Rowena already does and I daresay even Gryffindor will figure it out."

Helga nearly swooned in embarrassment. "What will they think of me…a mother to a bastard child…"

"I cannot tell you what they will think, Helga," I said trying to find a comforting tone in my voice. "But I don't care."

Helga smiled sadly up at me…and I reached forward, my finger lightly tracing the curve down to her chin, and then pressed his lips lightly to hers. I could taste the salt of tears as they started to drip down her white cheeks.

"…but I don't care…"

Whoo I'm on a roll. For those who don't get this chapter 'Harolde' of course is really Harry. But as we know from the stories Slytherin took out certain chucks of their time together to keep Harry's identity secret. He is known as simply Harolde...


	21. Chapter 21

Summary: We learn a little more about Salazar apprentice and the resistance against Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works.

**Git!**

"Insolent boy!" I winced as Godric's voice flooded my consciousness through the link of my new apprentice. Harolde's fleeting thought that Gryffindor was going to kill him intertwined with my own wavering confidence. His feelings of shame and guilt quickly followed making me chuckle. Typical Gryffindor!

I remember Harolde's face to this day when I first suggested that he 'borrow' a scroll from Godric's library. The boy had been absolutely petrified by the thought. But being Gryffindor would not admit this to me and so I had easily manipulated him into slipping into Hogwarts castle and into Godric's secret chamber.

Godric was no fool and soon he realised my part in the attempted theft. I didn't bother to take much notice of Godric's conversation with my apprentice. Only the scroll which I wanted was worthy of my attention. I knew Godric would bring my apprentice back to my door; although Harolde knew the secret way back into the cellar of our small home.

It was only when Godric deemed it necessary to insult me and reveal to me the scroll wasn't what I was after that I retaliated making Harolde snicker in glee with my indignation.

I went to the door and I waited for them to arrive. Since Saxtyn's and Newlin's death apparating could not be done on Hogwarts grounds thanks to Rowena Ravenclaw.

Soon enough to cloaked figures were visible in the distance I waited by the door frame motionlessly determined that Godric would be the first to speak.

"Ho, Salazar I've got you a boy," Godric jovially cried unclasping his long cloak and sweeping it to his side. He seemed somewhat amused that Harolde was refusing to look at anything but me. So I scowled deeply at my apprentice who continued to ignore me completely.

"Teaching a half blood are we… Salazar…?" Godric's eyes suddenly became cold and angry. In the few letters I had sent to him I continued to voice my opinions of teaching half-bloods.  
I glanced back down to Harolde who shifted in discomfort apparently still unsure where he stood with me. "His bloodlines would be…" I let my gaze linger on Godric for a moment then back to Harolde. "_reasonable_ enough."  
Gryffindor snorted irritably. "And you send him to steal from me."  
"_Burrow_…" I replied tersely. "I would have gotten the scrolls to you after we had used them."  
"The ones you want are dangerous."  
"The risk would be minimal if you or I did the task," I pointed out lightly.

"Are you doing this because you couldn't save Saxtyn and Newlin?" Gryffindor asked in a low voice. Even after this time his comment was like a barb. Penetrating my deep consciousness and rooting up the old feelings of guilt and shame.

"That has nothing to do with it," I hissed and pointed to Harolde who was backing away quickly. "This boy could possibly save our world…but without our help it would be nigh impossible."  
Gryffindor shifted uneasily. "I know," he admitted, "But he's one of mine - the decision is _mine_."

"Just like you decided to abandon hope of saving Saxtyn and Newlin, after you failed to protect them..." I replied bitterly.  
"We had no choice... would you damn your own nephew to a cursed immortal life?" Damn Gryffindor for being so calm after so long. "It was best to let the lads die. It was unfortunate, Salazar, but there was nothing more you could have done."

Harolde glanced away mute and embarrassed to be overhearing such a personal conversation. I could not stand it any longer… the anger was taking over me.   
"If he is one of yours then you should protect him!" I roared, "It's your responsibility NOT MINE!" I turned abruptly on my heel and stalked off in a temper, slamming the door behind me.

I nearly made it to my chamber when a terrible scream rent the air. I rushed back into the room to find Godric bending over a thrashing Harolde. I pushed Godric away crying out to my apprentice to open his eyes and calm down. Put Harolde slumped under my arms unconscious from the attack on pain that had assailed him. In all my years as a healer I have never seen a reaction that could rival what Harolde went through.  
'

'

'

Godric had insisted that we returned with Harolde back to Hogwarts. I was inclined to agree for I was concerned about him and being a healer it was my innate sense to protect my charges. Besides I hadn't seen Earven in a long time.

No complications bothered Harolde; he woke after a few hours and was back to his inquisitive self within moments. Which is just as well…

Earven had entered the room and introduced himself. Harolde seemed pleasantly surprised by my son's entrance. But that was not what had caught my attention.

Lord knows how it was able to enter a chamber in Hogwarts but it was in my chambers… The demoned that killed Newlin and Saxtyn was back and we were trapped.

I pushed Harolde behind my body barricading him from the creature. I knew that Harolde was already searching for the hidden door handle to exit the chamber but was quickly becoming panicked.

The creature stepped forward and unfurled great black wings.

"HAROLDE!" I grabbed my apprentice and threw him backwards with all his strength.

"…Father! NO!" Earven took a step towards me to help, but tripped on Harolde who was sprawled on the floor.

Harolde used this time to race to the table where his wand lay. He hit the table with his knees but pointed his wand directly at the creature.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

"NOOOOO...Harolde..." Earven jumped up and scrambled to Harolde his face twisted in an unreadable expression. He reached up and tried to twist Harolde's wand from his fist but Harolde lifted his arm and Earven meet thin air.

A great silver stag, with large deep set eyes stepped forth and turned his reagal head to survey the dark creature. The stag didn't allow the creature any more time the patronus reared and pranced forth, his lordly neck lowered to the ground… but the creature remained still and dispassionate…I could feel my heart sinking in my chest.

I caught my apprentice as he collapsed by the mounting pain the demon was causing him through his patronus. What surprised me was that he was conscious…

'

'

'

If I was not there I would not have believed it possible that my apprentice should be so strong that he was able to dispel the evil from his mind with Godric's help. After the double tragedy with our nephews I was aware that Godric had intensely studied the demon and found how one could fight back using one's mind.

Harolde quickly recovered himself, in time to hear that the Hollow, a land owned and protected by the Gryffindor clan had been attacked. He was truly a Gryffindor in the moments of turmoil that followed and he stubbornly argued that he should accompany me to the Hollow.

All that I will say about the Hollow is that Harolde was taken back by the force in which the muggles and the half-blood armies had gone through the village. I had seen the like before with the village of my deceased sister Salome. But it was the first time for Harolde.

I had no wish to linger in such a place. I grabbed my stubborn apprentice who had covered his mouth to stop retching. He momentarily glanced up at me then to Godric who accompanied us then whispered, "How will we find those who did this?" The fate of the village frightened him and so it should.

"We will follow their essence," I replied crisply then I continued wishing to teach Harolde that he should not have opposed my decision in coming with us. "And since you _wanted_ to be of help – come and I will show you."  
"Salazar I ought to…" I stopped Godric's protests with a curt nod. We knew each other well to understand our quirks and nature.

I stepped forward and Harolde followed me obediently with unsure hesitant steps. However I did not have to go far before I found a corpse of a women who evidently been killed by a magic user… a blood traitor.

"Well come down here then!" I cried impatiently kneeling beside the corpse. Harolde froze in his spot wry of what I might do next. Then slowly he knelt beside me his large emerald eyes searching my face for something…

I moved my hands over the corpse's face as I had done countless of times as a healer. Harolde watched on with disgust. "It's safe," I announced, Harolde didn't look too confident in my opinion. "Now give me your hand."

"She _won't_ bite," I snapped as Harolde's lips curled in disgust over what I had asked him to do.

"There is nothing to be afraid of," Godric Gryffindor said by Harolde's ear. How is it he always seems to know what is going through his apprentices' minds.

Harolde offered his hand shyly and I took it quickly before I myself changed my mind. I pressed both our fingers to the dead woman's temples.

I allowed both the boy's and my innate essences merge together so that I could tell where one identity started and the other began.

There was almost nothing from the woman. No thought. No power. No love. No music. No voices. No life.

'**Do you feel that?'**  
Harolde couldn't find the appropriate words to answer me. Feeling Harolde's sense of confusion I delved deeper into his magical core. **'Death comes to us all. This is a shell…almost nothing lingers here…'**

With my apprentice watching on the sidelines I investigated the 'empty' space of the corpse. After a little time a face emerged from the darkness and a new essence became evident…

The killer was a man with long flaxen hair, rich black robes and an elegant cane by his side. His eyes were light but were filled with darkness. And I felt a jolt of recognition by my apprentice.

"He's at my place…" I said as I slowly stood upright on my legs. "We should confront him."

'

'

'

I entered my home and stretched letting the door bang loudly against the frame effectively announcing to any intruders that I was home.

I had been right in assuming that my apprentice knew the intruder. I called the mysterious wizards name loudly and stepped further into the hall. Only silence welcomed me. I called again louder claiming I knew why he was in my home.

A loud clatter and clung greeted me. I grimaced striding forward. Despite myself I was angry at the intrusion on my privacy even though I knew this wizard was here. **'Calm down,'** Godric said soothingly into my mind.

'**I kill him… I swear I'll kill him…'**

'**You can kill him after we have closed the trap around the traitors of our kind,'** Godric assured me with a chuckle.

In response I forced a small smile to grace my features and walked on.

'**Now that is much better.'**

'**Shut up, Godric!' **

In the next moment I came face to face with a blonde gentlemen wearing elaborate robes. The blonde looked at me in fright, well I guess his first reaction was surprise, but as he was wearing a bone white mask over his face I could not be sure.

"Take off your mask… you have no need of it here. I have _already_ seen your face," I leered regally swishing my robes about. To my pleasure he did as I commanded almost immediately with shaky hands.

'**Git…'** Harolde commented in my mind.

'**Hush…Harry…,'** Gryffindor chided.  
**'He can't hear us… Git…'** Harolde repeated relishing the opportunity.  
I caught the smile that was on my lips and replaced it with a frown. **'But I can…'**

"Attacking the Hollow was a _grave_ mistake…" I purred silkily. I enjoyed the trepidation that spread across the stranger's face – and once more I could feel Harry jubilation in my mind. **'Git…git…git…git!'**

"My – my – lord?" the intruder stammered.  
"You were here to aide me, were you not…?" Slytherin raised his eyebrows serenely.  
"In a manner of speaking milord…" the intruder continued. I had reputation already it seemed with strangers of the 'wider' world for my apparent split in friendship of the other founders. My apprentice once more had been right in knowing how this man would react in meeting one such as I. This would be interesting…


	22. Chapter 22

Summary: Slytherin fools the intruder to show him where the army to overthrow Hogwarts is…

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works. And yes I shamelessly plagiarised my own work from History – Retold.

**Armies**

The intruder 'Luscious' or whatever his name was, was extremely happy and proud to lead me to the seemingly deserted village where those who wished to dispose Hogwarts were congregated. As I had suspected Lord d'Malfreds had stirred up most of the trouble with the half-blood parents, most of whom were fathers of students at Hogwarts. He had rallied muggles to. Some may say this was an odd army for a pure blood extremist, but I know better. It matters not from where you get your foot soldiers from. In Malfred's view their lives were meaningless to him. They fought for him but they were still nothing in the grand scheme of revenge.

I pulled my cloak over my face to hide my identity until I was complete inside the enemy camp. I knew that other than Malfred, Lord Standforde, who had rallied with him would instantly recognise me. There were other reasons for hiding my identity. I had constant mental contact with Gryffindor so that he and others he was leading could encircle and ensnare the enemy capturing them unaware. Maintaining a connection was risky but well worth the effort if I could keep what I was doing secret long enough.

"Milord." My guide swept his arm in front of him as we crested the hill. I felt a pang of anger as I caught sight of the numbers assembled against us. And in the centre was Malfred and his lap dog Standforde were mounted on a horse. Oscar d'Malfred was mounted beside his father; Beacen Standforde looked glum and irritable.

"What's your number?" I inquired forcefully.  
"Seven hundred men…" Malfoy replied almost instantly with a smirk. How I wished I could wipe it off his face!

'**Godric seven hundred men…'**  
**'We've surrounded the encampment,' **Godric relayed instantly **'I can even see you my old friend…'**  
**'I will go down to Standforde and Malfreds and show them they are playing with fire…'**  
Godric didn't respond with words instead I felt his grim approval over my planned actions.

I arrogantly started down the hill without my guide who had to trot after me like a dog on his master's heels.

Standforde and Malfred's had their backs as I approached. Nevertheless I was sure the game was over when Beacen Standforde instantly recognised me. For a brief moment, I saw Beacen's lips part as if to warn his father. But then his lips closed and he looked away in shame.

Beacen stepped aside and let me pass. I did not look at him not wishing to bruise his already injured pride.

"Lord Malfreds what an engaging surprise…" d'Malfreds turned with his companions to look at me when he heard my voice. I smiled winningly as his face turned white from surprise then deep plum in anger.

Taking Malfred's look of anger as confusion my guide silded up to me and stated, "Lord Slytherin has come to aide us."  
"I would like to beg to differ," I interrupted airly. "You see, my friend, you have been fooled."

Malfoy mouthed wordlessly. Obviously he had not expected Salazar Slytherin to react like this. "I am here not only to defend my school which was the result of my hard labour… but I am helping young Harolde to defeat your lord with magic he knows not."

"That is enough!" Tarrance yelled.  
"No it is not enough," I replied calmly, looking to at fingernails unconcernedly "A _true_ heart of Slytherin would never bring down the wizarding world… we are a race above mere muggles…! A Slytherin is noble among being sly and cunning! Be at peace, Malfoy that you have been fortunate enough to meet a man in whom a real Slytherin heart beats…"

I lifted his wand but at that moment a single word ripped through my consciousness…

'**SLYTHERIN!'**

The force that followed was so powerful that it swept all the muggles and half-bloods to their knees. Malfreds had been the main target of the attack stood no chance, he was pick up and thrown violently. His body snapping like that of a small twig.

Aware that my apprentice was about to try something foolish I had enough time to throw up a defensive shield and I was protected from the onslaught.

A few moments of violence past and then it was deathly still. Much like the eye of a storm. The dying down of strike of magic seemed to act as a signal for the surrounding wizards… and spells started to be cast everywhere.

Beacen Standforde was struggling to his feet beside me, evidently my shield had unwittingly protected him as well. He looked up at me with wide panicked eyes as I grabbed the sleeve of his jerkin. 

"Get out of here boy!" I yelled.  
Beacan looked to the unconscious frame of his father then back to me as if debating to help the father that hated him.

"Go now or you will regret your allegiance to your father and his most unworthy friends."  
"But – but – but…"  
"But nothing…." I snarled in return.  
"But I owe him my obedience. He _is_ my father…" The unfortunate Hufflepuff protested.  
"Who would hesitate to have you burned at the stake if it would be of any gain to him…Now go…" Beacen Standforde took a parting look at his father, frowning deeply, "You could never be accepted in your clan boy…"

Beacen stirred beside and took a step backwards evidently feeling the hurt from the remark. It was true. Beacen Standforde was the only wizard in a family of illustrious muggles. His clan could never accept him for what he ended up to be. Never could he hold his head up in pride in his father's house. His descent into misery had started the night when dear Lady Badger had told Lord Standforde his youngest child had magical potential. He had lost what little standing he had in his father's eyes that day….

I ran with Beacen lumbering beside me when I first heard Rhodderyk's call for help. In that instant I remembered Harry and the amount of power that was used to cause such a turmoil… It could very well be the death of him.

I apparated by Rhoddy's position and immediately fell to my knees to assess Harolde's condition. Harolde's skin pulsed with power and was hot upon my touch. I shook my head sadly.

"He'll be alright…?" Rhodderyk looked crestfallen, "You'll be able to help him…?"  
'

'

'

Harolde was one of those apprentices who did numerous of stupid things and always managed to defy death. Despite being severely weakened for a prolonged amount of time dear Harolde was fine.

I was – I still am immensely proud of my apprentice Harolde. Some unsavoury characters say I murdered him for he did disappear from our society. Where ever he is I know he is striving to become a better wizard. And I know he'll succeed in the tasks fate has bestowed upon him.

I miss him dearly. The token he gave me upon his departure is always with me and I know from the little gold coin used to break rules when he is thinking of me.


	23. Chapter 23

Summary: Slytherin speaks of his life after Hogwarts.

Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works.

**Dreams**

_The years steadily pass me by. I never did return to Hogwarts to teach. I think apart of Godric expected me to return after the threat of the Half-bloods had been destroyed. But he understood my need to continue on with my own life._

_I left for France a week after my apprentice disappear amid all the rumours that I had murdered him. I was restless but I could not return to the castle. Not after all that had befallen me inside her walls. It was time to move on. Time to find a new dream. _

_I never found that dream in France. It was my fate to return to Wales and teach the unteachable witches and wizards. Unlike the other three, I only taught one at a time and only when I had finished their education and I could teach them no more I found another apprentice no one would teach. The first of which I remember clearly… Helena, the bastard daughter of my good friend Helga; the child I had convinced her to keep. _

_I have lead a full life. Full of ups and downs. Tragedies and great joy. I have accomplished much for a little insufficient fen rat. I have changed the world in my own way. Where there was darkness I brought light. I hope this is how I shall be remembered but the likelihood of that is uncertain. _

_My time to leave behind my mortal body approaches. I am old. Nay, my friends, I am ancient. I feel every single day of my one hundred and ninety years. Soon I will be following Godric into the adventure after death._

_My story, who I was and what I stand for will be lost in the dregs of history. Of who I truly am will be discounted and my name will be used loftily. But in this I take my comfort: I have helped build a world that will forever offer hope and dignity to magical kind. This is my accomplishment. I can think of no better. _

'

'

'

I dip my quill back into the well of ink on my oak desk and sigh contently. My weary eyes study the pages of parchment that litter the floor. It is finished. My story is over. I glance back to my decrepit little owl and smile despite the great pain in my joints.

With slow deliberate movements of an old man whose body is falling apart I move to my low lying bed. I rolled onto my back and run my hands down my emerald and silver robes wistfully.

The sun filters through the windows which need cleaning, indicating that I had been up most of the night writing my story. Again.

"Magister." The red head apprentice called. I try to wave him away but a part of my mind is wandering and so I didn't hear him. "Magister are you alright?"

I don't answer. I don't have the strength anymore. I realise I am dying. But I'm not afraid.

Hearing the soft shuffling of feet as my apprentice leaves my chamber I find that I am smiling, my eyes moist with unshed tears. Raising my hand I wipe them away and find that I am chuckling. The chuckling turns into a deep cough…

Never in my life have I ever felt so weak… never so joyful to know that the end for me is nigh and I can lay down my head for all eternity and rest.

Footsteps return. "Father?"

Earven is at my door. But I can't acknowledge him. His footsteps quicken to my side and finally I turn my head to regard him. I smile and take his hand in mine even though it takes almost all my strength to do so.

"Look after your boys," I croak.

Earven looks sad and he nods. Knowing that I was asking him to look after the

Slytherin apprentices at Hogwarts as well as his own children.

"Father. Don't go."

I'm smiling again. I feel myself slipping away…

"Don't go…"

From the corner of the room I see an apparition. Joyful emerald eyes sparkle at me from under a mass of black untidy hair. "Harry…" The spirit smiles at me and reaches out to take my hand. His touch was full of warmth. "Harry you came back."

I know Earven is worried but I can't stop the words from spilling from my mouth.

A thought leaps into my mind. "The basilisk." I turn panic stricken to Earven. "I left the basilisk… I never killed it… Chamber of Secrets…" Earven takes my hand and squeezes, his expression tells me he thinks I have lost his mind. I never did tell him the story of his mother and the basilisk. "I left the bas…"

I loose my breath. My heart falters bravely trying to keep beating and it stops. My eyes flutter and close and my chest rises and falls with my last breath.

"I know," the spirit says to me as I fall into darkness and blinding light at the same time. "I know."


End file.
